


it won't be long now (until you're free)

by linderella



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anti-Sokovia Accords, Brief discussions of PTSD, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Paralyzed Rhodey, PepperTonyRhodey friendship, Pining, Post Civil War, Rhodey has a dog, Sam can cook, Sam sucks at spying, SamSteveNat are fugitives, Sort Of, coping with guilt, it gets gay, it's implied - Freeform, secret romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linderella/pseuds/linderella
Summary: So Jim sighs a little. Then, he says, “Sam, motherfucker. If that’s you, just fucking come inside.” It’s barely above a whisper, but he knows Sam has that fucking microphone in his lamp and honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was somewhere else in his apartment too. He knows Sam will hear it, and he’s tired of pretending Sam is good at this whole thing, letting him listen in on his life and not saying anything.Not surprisingly, Sam doesn’t emerge from the shadows or anything of the sort. Instead, all Jim hears are the honks of cars outside, the sounds of people laughing on the street below. Jim sighs theatrically, rolling his eyes. This is so fucking stupid. They aren’t enemies, not really. That whole idea is just the legal bullshit the UN put together. In reality, they’re just former teammates, and Jim would like to think that they’re friends.(Better known as the one where Sam tries and fails to spy on Rhodey, and accidentally falls in love.)





	it won't be long now (until you're free)

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been a long time coming! I started this fic a hell of a long time ago after I saw Infinity War and wondered if maybe there was a little bit more to when Sam joked with Rhodey about his hotels that weren't exactly five-star. This fic explores a portion of that time spent in hiding. 
> 
> Big thanks to Chelle and Taz for reading this fic for posting this!! Thanks to Chelle especially for always encouraging me through RhodeySam feelings to churn this baby out. Warnings mostly just for minor mentions of traumatic injuries, death of teammates, and PTSD. Enjoy!!

There is a listening bug in his apartment.

Jim isn’t stupid. He knows to check his living spaces for bugs. He’s been trained to do it. Ever since he’d been a young man in the air force, he was always making sure that someone wasn’t listening who wasn’t meant to. 

That’s why when he first finds the bug in his lamp, he doesn’t touch it or say a word. He knows it’s something to put ears into his living room. He’s also almost positive that in the short twenty minutes he’d walked his dog, someone had thought they were doing a good job placing it. 

It’s almost laughable how amatuer the work is. It’s disguised to look non-discrete, but Jim isn’t just a regular old citizen. He’s part of a UN-sanctioned task force now for God’s sake. He sort of can’t believe anyone would think he wouldn’t notice. 

He knows it was placed by someone without much experience in surveillance because the lampshade is slightly crooked. Even if Jim forgets the terrible placement of the device, it’s hilariously obvious someone has been messing around. 

He crouches down to the floor, unhooking the leash from Apollo’s collar, tossing it onto the kitchen table. He looks back and forth between the bugged lamp and back at the panting puppy, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t say a word out loud, but he decides he might as well have some fun with whoever is trying to listen in.

*

Jim doesn’t mention the surveillance device to Tony. In all honesty, he hardly sees him anyway. They’ve become extremely busy since signing the Accords, running every which way and constantly balancing between paperwork and hero work. There’s a lot that goes into getting an Avengers mission approved, including an entire approval committee before it can even be voted on by the UN themselves.

It’s...frustrating. Jim doesn’t argue, because he knows he believes in the mission of the whole thing. That doesn’t mean it isn’t painstaking work. He spends hours of time away from his apartment and Apollo, trying to keep up on threats and getting them through the UN in time. Most of the time, he’s getting home after dark, exhausted and ready for bed.

There’s a shit ton of meetings with committees Jim has to attend pretty frequently, too. They’re almost exclusively virtual reality calls, which makes it easier on Jim, but they still last too long. Tony comes to some, not all. They’re both nearly bored to tears during every single one, but Jim knows this is part of the price they have to pay. A safer world means restrictions and rules. 

All the work gets tough since most of the time he’s trying to use the new exoskeletons Tony built for him to try out. They work great, Jim didn’t expect anything less, but it will take a lot of strength building in physical therapy to get to a point where they’re comfortable for long periods of time.

Today he’s planted himself in the main sitting area, surrounded by papers and his open laptop, typing furiously and trying to help these dates between their proposed mission and the predicted date of the imminent threat start to match up. The shitty thing about the UN is that they’re fucking slow. Sometimes, Jim feels like they don’t put enough weight to the requests the Avengers send in, but he’s not sure if it’s just his bitterness talking. Either way, it’s a less than ideal situation.

He hears the click of heels from behind him, and cranes his neck to see Pepper behind him in the kitchen, packing herself some sort of lunch. When she sees Jim, she waves, making her way over towards where he is sitting. 

“Afternoon!” She says once she’s across from him. “How are you doing over there?”

Jim chuckles a little and leans back into the couch, stretching his arms over his head. He looks back at her, shrugging. “Same old. Trying to get this request processed before closing time tonight. What are you doing here?” 

Pepper nods sympathetically, since she’s more than familiar with how slow government agencies can be, especially processing something that is time sensitive. The second part of Jim’s question seems to tick an annoyance in her, though. 

“Oh,” She waves her hand like it’s nothing. “Just another business partner meeting. They always have this ansty urge to see this place. I figured it couldn’t hurt.” She straightens her jacket. “Though, it’s not really a part of the company.”

“Well, I’m sure you did great at the meeting.” He says, and he means it. “You probably do better than Tony would, anyway.” He means that, too.

She adjusts her purse on her shoulder, then lets out a laugh. She shakes her hair over her right shoulder, and then rolls her eyes at Jim. “Well, I think that’s obvious.” Then she’s gone, a wave and a flash of strawberry blonde and the room is empty. 

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly and uninterrupted. Jim submits the request to the proper committee, makes himself something to eat, and takes a break from focusing in on so much legal bullshit. By the time he’s packing up, it’s dark outside.

When he finally swings the door to his apartment open, and Apollo comes running out of the bedroom, which he’s nearly claimed as his own. Jim pets him behind his ears, and then remembers the bug in his lamp. He winks down at Apollo and then stretches out, pretending he’s on his phone.

“Long day,” He says to the dead line, pausing like he’s listening to someone on the other end. He hums like a response, then says, “You should hear all the stuff we’ve been talking about at work, buddy. Tony’s thinking he might run for president.” Anyone who knows Tony would know that was a complete lie. He wouldn’t like being President.

He pauses again, smirking at the lamp like someone is there. He knows whoever is listening has had their ears all perked up. He adds, just for fun, “I know man. Relocating to DC will be messy, but for the White House? Probably worth it.”

Jim ends his fake phone call, then collapses on the couch. Apollo is probably the most clingy dog ever, but he’s also extremely chalked full of energy. Jim knows he needs to be walked, even though he’s bone tired right now. Jim sits up slowly, stretching out his joints in his upper body and cracking his neck while he’s at it. Apollo knows what time it is, so he runs and hangs by the front door, literally vibrating with excitement. Jim clips his leash on, then heads down to the street.

It’s a warm New York evening, and the street is pretty vacant besides a few groups of drunk people laughing, probably walking from the bar a few blocks away. Apollo isn’t the most athletic corgi, so he usually tires out as soon as he uses the bathroom and walks around the block. Jim lets him find a place to do his business and looks the other way, because for some reason Apollo tends to be really shy about the whole thing. When he finishes, they start heading back toward the apartment, but Apollo is pulling toward a car parked on the side of the road.

Jim can’t figure out why, but Apollo is wagging his tail hard and fast and he seems...somewhat excited. He’s trying to get to this red car, and when Jim gets a better look at it, he realizes someone is sitting in the front seat, with a whole setup. As soon as Apollo yaps at the car, it’s engine is on and speeding away. Jim watches in awe, mostly because the whole stunt was so badly done that he can’t believe that the person was even attempting to perform surveillance on an Avenger.

Of course, it doesn’t make it any less laughable that there’s no way to hide that the person in the front seat of that car is one of the most wanted men in America, Sam Wilson.

*

Jim doesn’t see Sam the next morning. In fact, besides the listening device, there’s not a single sign he’s anywhere in the area for the next few weeks. Jim does his routine; walking the dog, driving to work, filing more paperwork, and coming home. He doesn’t see anything in the news about any of the opponents of the Accords being seen.

The first change in routine comes up with their trip upstate, one that was actually painstaking to actually get approved. It’s not supposed to be violent, just taking down a small operation inside a warehouse. Normally, the Avengers probably wouldn’t even be the ones dealing with this, but there are talks of nuclear weapons so they’re sending Tony and Jim just to be safe. 

Jim is having a neighbor dogsit Apollo, and when he packs his stuff he inspects the listening device in his lamp, still as easy to see as ever. He wonders if it’s been deactivated, or maybe the purpose of it all along was to make Jim paranoid. He doesn’t think Sam is that well versed in surveillance work to do that, though. Natasha might be.

They fly out of Avengers HQ with the eyes of the national guard while they take off. This mission is small, so it’s just Jim and Tony flying the short flight. Tony has a new plane that has a new cloaking feature, making them invisible in the air. 

They fly for a bit in silence. Jim is typing away on his computer, exchanging emails and getting last minute things ready to go. Tony’s clearly had too much coffee to do much of anything but buzz in his seat. Eventually, they’re sitting in silence, the only sound being the engine rumbling below them.

Tony scratches his chin. “Thanks for all your hard work getting this approved. I would have hated to fight the UN about it like we did about that mission to Portugal.” Tony shakes his head at the memory, and Jim can’t say it’s a fond memory for him, either. 

Jim smiles and closes his laptop, reclining his seat a little. “It’s no problem.”

Tony looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Jim doesn’t push him for information, though he wonders if he’s been having a similar experience with surveillance. He wonders if he should tell Tony about that, but he’s got enough keeping him up at night. 

One downside of any of this is that Jim knows that Steve and his associates aren’t really going to do anything. They’re the ones at odds with the law, and they won’t be making appearances any time soon. Jim just assumes they’re trying to keep in the know, though it’s not working very well for them so far.

 

They land safely and right on time. The mission goes as planned, though the rumors about nuclear weapons were false. Tony and Jim get the guys disarmed and tied to chairs, while they transfer everything on their computers to flash drives. They’ve got authorities on the way, but there’s a lot of information that needs to be transferred. 

They’re not very compliant. It’s not anything new, but Jim is surprised at the way each man in the warehouse begs for mercy. They keep saying they aren’t involved, despite being clearly guilty.

Jim pulls the information with a second to spare. Their backup arrives a moment later, kicking down the warehouse doors and handcuffing all the guys behind the operation. They arrest the guys in the warehouse, and as they’re being taken away, one guy spits on the ground and says, “Fucking government sellouts.”

*

Three days later, Jim is getting back around midnight. He makes himself a cup of tea, and stays up calling his mom, giving her the rundown of the mission and letting her know he’s safe. 

“You sound tired.” She says after a moment, almost accusatory. “You aren’t overworking yourself, are you?”

Jim laughs, rubbing his eyes and taking the last sip of his tea. “When am I not overworking myself, Mom?” She laughs when he makes this point, because he’s been like this ever since high school, staying up into the early hours of the morning studying for tests and spending hours after classes doing volunteer work. He’s been tired since he was born.

“Are you tired?” He asks, because he’s been avoiding it and he knows things are getting worse for his mom. “How is Beth treating you? She helping you?”

His mom loves to downplay her health problems. After a stroke back in January, she’d nearly needed to move into a home, but Jim’s older sister Beth stepped in to take care of her. Jim knows it should be him, wishes he could move back to Florida and be there for his mom, but he knows he can’t.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She says over the line, her thin voice putting on a tone of confidence and bravery. Every good thing running through Jim’s blood comes from his mom. 

“Maybe I can find time off.” Jim tries, even though he knows it’s not even true when he says it. “Come and spend a weekend with you and Beth. Maybe I could even drive a few hours to Miami to see Alice and the kids, too.”

“I’m proud of you, James.” She says instead, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m really proud of everything you’ve been doing.”

Once they hang up, Jim remembers that someone might just have heard that entire conversation, and it’s almost amusing. They think they’re getting information that’s pertinent to missions, when in reality, they’re listening in on Jim’s conversations with his mother. 

Jim gets ready to turn in. Apollo waits at the foot of the bed, watching silently as Jim brushes his teeth and his face. When he finally turns the light off, Apollo cuddles up to his side, burrowing his nose underneath the crook of Jim’s arm. 

*

It’s sort of a strange instance to feel like someone is watching you all the time. Jim assumes Sam has got some sort of tracking device on his car, because he keeps seeing the same red car following him everywhere. He pretends not to notice, even though it’s the same car that sped away back before their most recent mission.

He’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t know Sam is spying on him. At first, he thought he’d play a couple jokes, but now it’s just plain annoying. He never actually says anything of substance that Sam could hear, but he doesn’t love the idea of Sam knowing all the details of Jim’s family life. 

There comes a perfect opportunity the next week, when Jim spots someone on the other side of central park, sitting at a bench and clearly trying to avoid suspicion. He’s the perfect build to be Wilson, but he’s wearing a disguise and he’s so far away it’s hard to tell. Jim knows he can’t just walk over, so he moves slowly, trying to seem like he’s just nudging Apollo that way. The park is crowded, since it’s summertime and a Saturday. By the time he’s close enough, the guy is gone. 

Jim gets home after going grocery shopping later in the evening. As soon as he walks in the door, he gets a text from Pepper. She’s asking if he wants to join her and Tony for dinner, but he’s been out all day and his legs need a break. He declines, and Pepper just sends back a bunch of assorted emojis. God, he loves her. Jim collapses on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

He looks at the lamp.

“You know,” Jim says out loud, like someone is sitting at the kitchen table. “You could just email me, or something. I’d be happy to let you know what’s going on, Sam. No need to spy.”

Jim hasn’t actually spoken to him directly since he’d found the bug, but it’s no surprise when no one responds. Still, the secret’s out. Not like it matters. He wouldn’t be surprised if the bug was gone tomorrow.

*

Tony bursts through the door on Wednesday, looking completely wired up on coffee and energy drinks. He’s not sleeping again, which isn’t abnormal, but it usually means anything but good. Tony sits across from Jim in the armchair, his cup on coffee in his left hand. He leans forward, sets the cup down and sighs.

“We’ve got a problem.” He says, loosening his tie and leaning back into the chair. “We have to go back upstate.” His words come out sharp, on edge. He’s worried about something, and it stresses Jim out, as much as he wants to rationalize Tony’s razor-sharp demeanor.

“What for?” Jim asks, trying to keep cool. 

Tony raises an eyebrow, and removes his glasses so he can rub his eyes. Then he looks back at Jim, and shakes his head. “We didn’t shut down the right operation down there. It was a setup.”

Jim is taken aback. They’d been working on the bust for months, doubled down on the guys and made sure to track their location for months in advance. They’d done everything right. It’s not easy to cover your tracks when you’re being watched by someone trained to dig them back up.

“How do you know?” Jim asks slowly, still in disbelief. They did everything right. Those guys were put on trial months ago, imprisoned. Jim hadn’t even needed to attend the sentencing, it was all over newspapers. That was life. 

Tony runs his fingers through his hair, then projects a chart on the wall. For a moment, Jim isn’t sure what the numbers are indicating, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s tracking something that’s not nuclear waste. It’s some other type of waste, unidentifiable. Maybe galactic. Tony stands from his chair, walks over to the projection. 

“Look,” He points to the numbers, which are steadily increasing. “This is still increasing. We’re finding more of it every day, Jesus. It’s being dumped fifty miles in the other direction. Which is miles away from where we apprehended the first guys. They were a diversion.”

God, Jim knows this is worse than either of them can say. Nuclear waste itself is extremely serious, but if this is something otherworldly then they need to act immediately. New York City isn’t far away, and it’s filled with families and people who can’t afford to die from poisoning. And if no one intervenes, it might result in some sort of weapon. 

Jim starts typing on his computer. “I’ll get a request into the council right away. We’ll look into getting there as soon as possible. We’ll have reinforcements on every side. I can get the form in tonight, if we hurry. I’ll need you working on it, too.” He feels sort of bad, knowing Tony clearly hasn’t slept in who knows how long, so he adds, “Take a power nap first, though.”

*

They get an answer two days later from the UN. Jim accompanies Tony to the meeting they’re holding, all high tech and never done in person (Jim supposes it is sort of risky, meeting face to face with enhanced individuals, though Tony and Jim are wearing suit and ties). When things get started, Jim already knows they’re going to get bad news.

“We’ve reviewed the request you submitted, Colonel Rhodes. Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” Secretary Ross says, shuffling through papers on the holographic desk in front of him. He takes a sip from his water, then clicks his tongue. “However, we are confident that there is no need for revisitation at this time. We apprehended the guys, and they’re safely behind bars. It’s likely that waste is simply from a nearby large supply of nuclear energy.”

Jim’s blood boils the entire time Ross is speaking. He’d sent over the stats Tony had pulled, it was clear the numbers were rising rapidly. He wants to bite his tongue, but he shakes his head. “Did you even read the report I sent you? The numbers are increasing so rapidly, there’s no way any sane government would be depositing waste in those numbers. And it’s not nuclear. You have to let us--”

“As I said, there is no cause for concern. I will remind you that the Avengers are under UN jurisdiction. Your signatures are on those accords, aren’t they?” His stare is cold, calculated. Tony leans back in his chair, almost like he’s bored. Jim thinks he might give up. Instead, he lurches forward, nearly spilling the thermos of coffee he’s got on the table in front of him.

“Don’t you people fucking care about safety? It was a setup. Those guys we apprehended are fucking innocent and someone is building a weapon and this entire council wants to sit back and ignore all of those people? Are you guys itching for a war? That’s it, isn’t it?” Jim has to touch Tony’s shoulder to reign him in, and Tony finally stops talking. 

Secretary Ross hasn’t left his cold stare behind. Neither has the rest of the council, who are all mirroring him in silence. Finally, Ross speaks, short and concise. “This council has decided that the Avengers will refrain from revisiting this mission. That is our final decision. This meeting is adjourned.”

“Please, just--” Jim starts, but he is interrupted by Secretary Ross.

“Gentlemen.” Then the room is empty, all projected UN council members gone. For a moment the room is completely silent, tension so thick you can cut it with a knife. No one moves a muscle, though Jim feels about as angry as Tony looks. Finally, Tony swipes his hand over his face.

“I don’t give a fuck, Rhodey,” He says finally. “We have to go.”

Jim nods without a second thought. They have to go, no matter what these fucking UN puppets say. It’s not right, leaving those people at the hands of someone with these capabilities. 

They’ll leave tomorrow, they decide. Tony is going to request air force coverage of an empty jet that will depart from Avengers tower minutes before Tony and Jim in Tony’s new cloaked plane. They’ll drive upstate themselves, get the job done, and get back before anyone knows they’re gone.

It’s a direct violation of The Accords, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d violated the conditions. Tony had come home battered from Siberia, refused to talk about it. Jim knew, but he never really asked. He knew one thing: Tony hadn’t gone through all the paperwork and requested to be there. 

The plan works perfectly, and as soon as Jim sees the plane fly over the horizon and past their unmarked car, he knows they’ve gotten away with it. It isn’t a short car ride, and neither Jim or Tony are really in the mood for talking. Instead, Jim sips on his sparkling water, scrolling through his Facebook feed. His mother shared a YouTube video, something about anti-bullying. He likes it. His sister posted a photo of his newest niece, Alaina, who’s only about three months old. He hasn’t even met her in person. Instead, he leaves behind a like and a comment that says “So cute!! <3”, even though he’s a grown ass man; His niece is fucking adorable.

They arrive without much trouble. Jim is surprised things have gone so well for them. Things usually have bumps in the road. 

Jim isn’t afraid of flying, despite what his therapists worried about when he was first recovering from the crash in Germany. He’s not afraid of anything like this. He’d been in accidents before, when he was in the Air Force. None of them were as close to deadly, but for some reason, he doesn’t have trouble flying.

He has trouble falling, which is totally different. He can’t do heights without the suit on anymore, or ride rollercoasters. When he skips a step on the way down the stairs, his heart stops in his chest. But when he’s in the suit, he feels secure. The arc reactor is intact, and when it’s intact, so is Jim.

They fly overhead toward the epicenter of all these waste Tony’s been picking up. When they’re finally above, Tony dives headfirst toward the ground, his hands straight at his side. Jim follows, scanning the ground for heat signatures. These suits are able to withstand any type of waste, including nuclear. This stuff could easily get past the suits, though. Tony can’t prepare for everything.

When they finally reach the ground, Jim doesn’t remove the visor from the suit. He’s not sure they’re anywhere near the waste, but he’s not chancing it. He communicates with Tony through comms instead. “Any sign of galactic bullshit?”

Tony is quiet for a moment, presumably using some new feature he’s put into the suit to check. Then, he nods. “This whole place is an oozing dumpster-fire of nuclear waste and whatever kind of alien shit we’ve got going on. Whoever’s dumping this has to be operating closeby.”

Jim hears the footsteps only a second before he actually feels the guy. When he flips around, his bulked in armor too, similar to the one’s Tony and Jim are wearing, but somehow tight around his body like spandex. He lurches forward, and something in his fists is able to shock Jim through his War Machine armor. 

He whips out his own blaster, trying to fire it, but he misses without much of a chance. The guy isn’t giving him much leeway on using his arms, instead holding him in a headlock. Tony is across the way, surrounded by at least three other guys in armor that’s similar. Jim kicks away, breaking free of the headlock and shooting at the attacker again, hitting this time. It doesn’t do much damage. He notices a fifth member of the group, flying the other direction, away from the fight. 

Jim goes the other way, following the fifth guy in armor. Whatever they’re hiding needs to be recovered, and Jim is almost sure this guy is trying to get there first. He can nab these other guys later, for all he cares. If they’ve got nuclear weapon facilities, he needs to know. He’s got to know.

His thrusters are fully operative, and they’re about as fast as the guys behind him. Two are gaining on him, while the other two are staying back keeping Tony busy. Jim speaks through the comms, updating Tony on his location.

“Heading northeast. We’re gonna figure out where these guys are hiding their weaponry.”

The frontrunner flies down through a small neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, just on the shoreline. There’s rows of houses, but there’s a few rows of storage units that he’s heading toward. Jim beelines toward the ground, landing and immediately breaking into a run, keeping fast behind this dude’s trail. He immediately identifies the heat signature through a storage unit door, and goes to break it down. Before he can, someone is behind him again, disabling him and twisting his left arm behind his back. Jim tries to shoot, but it’s lost. He regains control for only a second, but this suit isn’t made for close range combat.

He tries to kick free, but he’s surrounded on the other side by another armored guy, his fingers prickling with some sort of blue electricity, that stings even through the armor when he touches Jim. 

“They’ve got me in a chokehold,” Jim says into the comms device. “Storage units by the coastline. Something’s in here.”

“On it.” Tony replied, sounding worn out. “Once I shake these guys I’ll be there. Hold tight.”

Jim tries to break free again, but when he does, he’s given another taze from the back. Then again in the front, and he’s realizing now that whatever they’re doing is somehow damaging the suit. 

Whoever they are, they know what they’re doing. They know his suit’s power comes from the arc reactor, because they go for that next. The electricity is so much, so fully powered that it penetrates the glass, shattering it. Jim knows his suit is down. He can’t use the comms now, can’t identify heat signatures or fight patterns. 

There’s a swoop above him, a blur. He thinks it’s Tony for a moment, striping across the sky. Quickly, he’s proven wrong. Down from above comes two wings, completely unexpected and whistling in the wind. He takes the two armored dudes by surprise, knocking them off Jim with just enough time to spare. Jim stumbles forward, and pulls out the automatic blaster the suit has in case of power loss. He aims at the first guy, hitting his wrist and knocking off whatever bracelet he’s wearing that controls the electrical surges. He does the same with the second.

In front of the two guys, Sam Wilson stands, in broad daylight. He’s wearing the Falcon suit, though he’s got some sort of mask on it, to protect from nuclear waste. There isn’t any skin showing at all. Jim doesn’t have time to have any sort of reunion, though. Instead, he gestures toward the storage unit. 

“We need to find whatever’s in there and take note. Destroy anything that looks like it’s being used to produce the weapon. Once we’ve got proof we can send for backup and get this operation shut down.” 

Sam nods. They burst through the door, and immediately find a room filled with weaponry. It’s a smaller operation, not an atom bomb, but Jim doesn’t recognize whatever it is. And it’s not safe. They move quickly, destroying every piece of machinery in the room that they possibly can. Sam’s got the two guys they apprehended outside tied to a chair, and Jim blasts the fifth guy trying to salvage equipment before he can do much. His suit dissolves around him.

The entire room is in pieces after only a few moments. They stand in quiet for a second, looking at each other. Jim doesn’t dare remove his visor, and Sam doesn’t remove his mask. It’s a moment of confirmation for Jim, and he knows Sam knows that too. He’s been watching. Somehow, he’s followed them all the way here. He’s supposed to stay indifferent. Yet, he couldn’t help but intervene.

“You’ve been watching me after all, huh?” Jim says, and as soon as he does he can hear Tony above him, the thrusters in his suit loud and damaged. He’s calling Rhodey, trying to get a response. Sam turns on his heel, out through the door and down the behind the storage unit. Jim is afraid Tony will see him, but he lands next to the storage unit so quickly, he knows there wasn’t a chance. Tony stumbles in, notices Jim’s suit is down, and sighs.

“Thank God,” He breathes, relieved. “Let’s get some samples of this place. We’ll get cleanup here as soon as possible. F.R.I.D.A.Y, assess damage, please.”

*

Of course, as soon as the UN council realizes Tony and Jim were right about the threat, they send backup. All five guys are in custody in a day, and in two, they’re on the way back home. Technically, there’s a punishment they’re supposed to go through if they break any part of the accords, but once Siberia was allowed to slip, it sort of goes unnoticed. News outlets don’t know anyone has done anything about this threat, and the UN prefers to keep it that way. 

When they get back to New York, they go to Avengers headquarters. Their little unplanned stunt may have ended well, but it also means they’ve got three days of paperwork to catch up on. Jim is sort of still running on low sleep, but Tony makes sure to pour a glass of champagne before he leaves for his meetings. 

When Jim is alone, he can’t help but wonder how Sam got there unnoticed. In fact, he’s sort of confused how he knew they were going in the first place. If there’s one place he’d never be able to bug, it’s Avengers headquarters. The security is too tight. 

He thinks about how Sam flew down, inserted himself in the fight. If there’s one thing Jim knew about spying, it was that the number one rule was to never engage, to never let the person you were watching know you were there. Jim had already suspected he’d been spying (or, more accurately, he knew), but he never expected to directly see Sam confront a situation. Yet, he’d gone after them both. He’d kept his eye on the fight and intervened as soon as it escalated too badly. 

He works late that night. It’s not until almost midnight that he packs up his things and heads back for his apartment, feeling almost like a zombie the second he gets in the car. He’s quiet the entire drive, and fuck. He really can’t get this Sam thing off his mind. 

When he’s back at his apartment, he calls the elevator and rides up to his floor, and when he finally unlocks his door, he breathes in the scent of his apartment. It smells like home. All of the buildings Tony has uses this weird air freshener that make the entire room smell like a vanilla bomb went off. It’s nice to escape it.

Apollo is excitedly jumping up at Jim’s legs, panting like it’d been a lot longer than two days. He’s sort of a clinger. Jim likes it. He crouches down, scratching Apollo behind his ears. “You want a treat, bud?” He asks, and as soon as Apollo hears the word his eyes dilate and his tail is wagging a million miles an hour. 

Jim shuffles into the kitchen and opens the top cabinet, fishing Apollo’s dog treats from the very top shelf. He’s learned that if he keeps it anywhere else, Apollo breaks into the cabinets and eats the entire bag in one afternoon. Normally, Apollo will nudge Jim’s feet, impatient and waiting for his treats. However, he’s curiously watching the glass doors to the balcony, completely rigid and alert. Jim pauses, watches him. Apollo barks at the glass door, aggressive and completely guarded. 

Jim breathes in through his nose. Theoretically, it could be anyone. Someone who was connected to the bust, or one of the other dozens of others the Avengers had a hand in. He’s been pretty secretive about where he lived, but it wouldn’t be the first time his place of residence had been dug up. 

So Jim sighs a little. Then, he says, “Sam, motherfucker. If that’s you, just fucking come inside.” It’s barely above a whisper, but he knows Sam has that fucking microphone in his lamp and honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was somewhere else in his apartment too. He knows Sam will hear it, and he’s tired of pretending Sam is good at this whole thing, letting him listen in on his life and not saying anything.

Not surprisingly, Sam doesn’t emerge from the shadows or anything of the sort. Instead, all Jim hears are the honks of cars outside, the sounds of people laughing on the street below. Jim sighs theatrically, rolling his eyes. This is so fucking stupid. They aren’t enemies, not really. That whole idea is just the legal bullshit the UN put together. In reality, they’re just former teammates, and Jim would like to think that they’re friends. 

He’s not gonna beg the guy to come in. Instead, despite being dead tired, he makes two cups of tea. He has no idea if Wilson even likes that sort of thing, but it’s something. Apollo isn’t exactly interested in the dog treats anymore, instead just staring at the door, still rigid. Jim pours the tea into two plain white mugs, then sits at the kitchen table. He’s quiet for a moment, waits. 

Then he says, “Why were you there?”

Nothing.

“God, Sam,” Jim laughs a little, runs his palm across his face. He’s fucking exhausted. This is completely useless, but he’s so tired of this game they’ve been playing, tiptoeing around each other like neither of them know the other is there. And he stepped in when something terrible could have happened, and Jim can’t stop thinking about that. “Just come and have a cup of tea. I’m not gonna turn you in. I know you’re listening. Just come inside.”

He’s about to give up and let Sam be, but that’s when Jim hears one of his potted plants fall of the ledge and shatter on the balcony instead. Apollo jumps up at the sudden movement, barking. Jim stands up, partially because it’s almost two in the morning and he really can’t afford to get passive aggressive letters about the dog from his neighbors. When Jim opens the glass doors leading out the balcony, and Sam stands, all decked out in his falcon wings like he’s on a real mission.

“Um,” Sam says first, because Jim is just looking at him, unimpressed. “The wing hit the plant. I’ll replace it, shit. Sorry.”

It makes Jim crack a smile, and he sets Apollo down, who’s now panting with excitement. Sam looks down at him, and smiles a little. “Hey, buddy,” He says, scratching his ears.

“You gonna come in?” Jim asks, and Sam looks kind of embarrassed, but he shrugs.

“Might as well,” He reasons. “It’s not like I can go back on this now.”

So, miraculously, he follows Jim inside. He’s retracted the wings into the jetpack he’s wearing, though he still looks a little ridiculous wearing full armor standing in Jim’s kitchen. Apollo is loving on Sam, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it’s not exactly like they haven’t met before.

“So,” Jim says, a smile playing on his lips as Sam sits at the chair across the table from him. “You guys have met before, I’m assuming?”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs in spite of himself, shaking his head. “Oh my god. How did you figure it out? You knew before. I heard you.”

“Well,” Jim stares at him like he’s asked something incredibly simple. “You’re not...really the best at this surveillance stuff. Probably should have left it to Natasha.” Of course, that gay shit that occupies the back of his brain adds, ‘Handsome guy like you would be hard not to notice’, but he’s too tired to pull lines on Sam when it’s been a good 7 months since they saw each other, and the last time wasn’t exactly the most lighthearted situation. 

Sam throws his head back. “I told her I couldn’t do this shit. When did you notice? Please say it took you at least a couple of weeks, I’m begging.” 

Jim cracks a smile. “Mid June?”

Sam sighs. “Fuck.”

They sit at the table in silence, drinking their tea. Apollo is sitting underneath them, his head resting on the floor, sleepy as ever. Jim can relate to that. He looks back up at Sam, looking him over, in full Falcon getup, red goggles around his neck. 

“You want to borrow some clothes?” Jim asks. Sam raises an eyebrow, obviously confused. The back of Jim’s brain takes him back to college, awkwardly trying to flirt with guys on his campus, falling completely flat. 

“What?” Sam asks, like he has no idea what Jim is asking. Jim rolls his eyes.

“You and I both know you need somewhere to sleep. The couch pulls out. I have a million different pairs of sweatpants and hoodies. Even got a spare toothbrush. I’m not letting you go back to whatever place you’re sleeping. You and I both know it’s not the best.”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m not going to repay you for spying on you for months by crashing your place, sorry.” He fiddles with the teabag in his cup for second, then adds, “I sort of feel bad I’m even drinking your tea in the first place.”

“Where are you sleeping?” 

“In this car we hotwired in New Mexico.”

Jim stands up from the kitchen table and shakes his head. “I’ll be real,” He starts, putting his empty mug in the sink and grabbing some of Apollo’s dog treats. “The whole surveillance thing was a breach of privacy. If you want to repay me for spying on me, then stay here for a night, at least. Seriously. At least that way I know where you are.” 

Sam stares at him long and hard, silent for a moment. Then, he just sighs. “Alright.” So Jim fishes out some old sweats for him to wear, and throws them at his chest. He opens a pack of toothbrushes from the hall closet, handing Sam a neon yellow one. Sam smiles a little.

“Thanks,” He says, and Jim smiles back, and he can feel the warmth blooming in his chest. He really shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s never really cared about the rules, anyway. He just wants to protect people, and sleeping in your car in New York City isn’t safe, even if you’re a former Avenger.

“I’m going to sleep,” Jim says, because he’s realizing it’s at least three in the morning and even though tomorrow is a Saturday, he’s probably going to have to work from home all morning to catch up on the paperwork he’s behind on. “Let me help you pull out the couch.”

They set it up in a few minutes, not bothering with anything but the sheets and a wool blanket Jim keeps in a basket next to the couch. After it’s done, Sam says thank you again. Jim just waves it off, then heads off to his bedroom.

*

Jim wakes up to the sound of running water in the kitchen. The second his eyes open, his first thought is: There’s someone in my apartment. His heart rate picks up speed, but only for a second, because suddenly he comes back to himself, remembering the night before. 

Sam is in my apartment. He lets it sit in his mind for a second, giving himself a moment to compose himself. Okay. Sam is in the apartment. In some ways, Jim is actually surprised he’d agreed to stay the night at all. Apollo isn’t in the bedroom, which is sort of unusual for a dog as clingy as him. He typically sleeps right on Jim’s chest at night.

It takes Jim a minute to get out of bed, but by the time he’s got the leg braces on, he can hear Sam clearly using the kitchen. Jim turns the doorknob, earning him a long creek from his door frame. Sam is standing in front of the coffee machine and staring at it, perplexed. When he hears Jim, he jumps in his skin.

“Jesus,” He breathes, a hand on his chest. “You scared me.”

Jim quirks an eyebrow, his mouth curving into a amused grin. “Sorry,” He says, walking into the kitchen. Apollo is sitting at Sam’s feet, like he’s expecting Sam to drop some scraps on the floor. “Are you looking for something?”

Sam sighs. “The coffee.”

Jim nods his head, pointing to the cabinet the the left of Sam’s head. He goes across the get it, but Sam stops him, quickly opening the cabinet and getting it himself. Jim ignores that. Sam shrugs his shoulders.

“Thanks,” Sam says, shortly. Then he shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m kind of a dick before I’ve had coffee.” He takes the package from Jim’s hand, pressing a button and waiting for it to brew. They stand awkwardly in the kitchen for a moment, not saying a word to each other. Sam is leaning against the countertop, Jim leaning against the pantry.

It dawns on Jim, for the first time, how little he actually knows the guy. They’ve been teammates for years, but they haven’t really spent any time without Steve or Tony there. It’s a weird dynamic, because Sam is standing in the kitchen wearing Jim’s sweatpants, an old baseball shirt. It all seems so mundane.

Jim notices that the couch is made up again, the sheets and blankets they’d set out the night before folded neatly and placed on the end table beside the couch. Jim scratches the side of his face.

“You put the couch away,” He observes out loud, like it isn’t already obvious. Sam nods in response, closing his eyes. The coffee finishes brewing, and Sam starts to pour himself a cup. Jim clears his throat. “You didn’t have to. Thanks.”

Sam looks at him for a long time, like he’s said something out of the ordinary. Then, he sighs. “I should be the one thanking you. I fucking hate sleeping in that car,” He sets the coffee mug down, looking around him. Then he looks back at Jim. “You have creamer?”

“Left side of the fridge,” Jim replies, pointing. Sam smiles a little and grabs the creamer out, pouring an obscene amount into his drink. 

“Thanks, Rhodes,” He says, taking a sip of the coffee. “This kind expensive Stark brand, or something? Every cup of coffee I’ve had for the last seven months has been either cheap, burnt, or black.”

“You can just call me Jim,” He says first, because hardly anyone calls him Rhodes unless it’s military or government shit. “Rhodes is kind of formal. And only Pepper and Tony call me Rhodey.”

Sam nods. “Thanks, Jim.” He over emphasizes the name, raising his eyebrows in amusement. Then, he looks at his feet, smiling. “Your dog is really friendly. He slept on the couch with me.”

Jim drags a hand over his face. “God, sorry about that. He’s super clingy. Normally, he’s drooling all over me at night.” Apollo wags his tail when he notices he’s being looked at. Jim bends down and scratches behind his ears. 

Jim knows he needs to go into work today, despite it being a Saturday. He’s still so behind on everything, but this is a situation he wasn’t really expecting to find himself in. He reaches into the pantry he’d been leaning on, pulling out some cereal. “You want breakfast?” He offers to Sam, gesturing to his cereal.

“Oh,” Sam shakes his head. “No, I should probably get out your hair, huh? Don’t want to … overstay my welcome.” 

For some reason, Sam wanting to leave makes Jim even more desperate for him to stay. He files through his mind, trying to find some sort of excuse to give Sam about why he needs to stay. Jim reminds himself simultaneously that he just doesn’t feel comfortable knowing Sam is on the streets.

“You don’t need to,” He says, before he can actually think of a valid reason for Sam to stay at the apartment. He’s going to be alone all day, but the thought of Sam stepping onto the balcony and never coming back is a lot to process right now. “I don’t mind. I’m usually gone during the day and...Apollo needs company.”

Sam smiles down at the dog, then looks back at Jim, clearly uncertain. “You don’t owe me anything.” It’s much firmer, nothing like the times Jim has heard him tell jokes. Instead, it sounds a lot like his voice when they were arguing about the Accords, the cold edge incredibly familiar.

Instead of going back on his offer, he claps Sam on the shoulder, smiling so he knows he’s genuine when he says it. “I know I don’t. Just need some free dog sitting.”

Sam lets his brow furrow, then looks back at Jim. “Well. He does seem to kind of like me.”

Jim nods. “So I’ve noticed,” He pauses, pressing his lips together. Sam stares back, his eyes tired and resigned. Jim clears his throat. “Speaking of work. I probably have to go in for a few hours today. Maybe I could cash in on the dog sitting? Pay you with takeout later tonight?”

Sam blinks. “You’re serious? I mean...if you need someone, I can do it,” Then he raises an eyebrow, adding, “But please don’t try and repay me. I owe enough to you already.” The way he says it is quiet, fervent. Jim knows it means more than the pullout couch and coffee, but he doesn’t want to say anything. 

“Then I’ll get takeout because I like greasy Chinese food.” 

Jim pours some cereal into a bowl, getting a move on so he can get into the office and home as soon as possible. He knows it’s crazy, and definitely illegal. But he can’t stop himself from doing it. Sam stretches his arms above his head, and with one flex, Jim knows why.

*

Jim doesn’t actually start to panic until he gets in the car and starts driving to work. He’d left Sam his cell phone number, showed him where Apollo’s stuff was, invited him to eat whatever he wanted out of the fridge. Then Jim had gotten ready for work, waved goodbye, and walked out the door.

He was hiding Sam in his apartment. And he was going to keep doing it.

In all honesty, he doesn’t give a shit about what the law says. He knows he’s not supposed to have any contact with anyone who opposed the Accords, but he’s not scared of Secretary Ross in the slightest. 

The doesn’t mean the government doesn’t have ways of finding out Sam was in the apartment. It’s already risky enough that Sam was out in his Falcon suit the night before, and it’s not like his apartment doesn’t have windows. 

So that’s it. Jim isn’t afraid of the consequences for himself, but he is afraid of the consequences for Sam. As soon as he thinks about the raft and lets it occupy space in his mind, his blood boils again. He knows Sam is in danger of facing some ridiculous legal consequences. If the government ever found out he was in New York, they’d bust down the door.

The only logical solution, of course, is to not tell anyone. He’s positive that neither Tony or Pepper would ever tell a soul, but he also knows it’s not his livelihood to gamble with. So he decides to keep tight lipped about the whole thing. 

He’s not planning on working a full Saturday, deciding instead he can work until late afternoon and get enough done. It should be a ghost town around the compound, which allows him some focus and quiet. 

He drinks his coffee while he works, typing and emailing back and forth with some officials. He’s sort of surprised to hear someone in the hallway outside the room he’s sitting in, their steps short and quick. When the door opens, it’s Pepper.

“Oh,” She says, clearly surprised. “Hi, Rhodey. What are you doing in on a Saturday?”

Jim waves his hand. “Catching up.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, sighing. “They’re making you catch up on the work? You disabled a chemical weapon, Jesus Christ. You’d think they’d give some of this stuff to an intern, or something.” She cracks a smile when she says that. Avengers interns.

Jim shrugs. “What are you doing here?” He asks, because it’s even more unusual for Pepper to be here on a Saturday morning. “Aren’t you and Tony supposed to be in Hawaii or something, this weekend?” He remembers it just as he says it, because Tony had been planning the trip for some time.

Pepper smiles sort of sadly. “Well, that was the plan. There are some bumps in the road, unfortunately. I’m here to pick up some stuff for Ross.” She pauses, smoothing out her jacket. “They think they might have got a lead on where Steve is.”

Jim’s blood runs cold. “Did Lang have any information?” He asks, trying to cover how his thoughts are running a million miles a minute. Pepper shakes her head.

“No. He’s just...on house arrest, I believe? He doesn’t have any information. But,” Her voice is almost excited. “There were some sightings of a stolen car they’ve been suspected to have taken. It was found abandoned in New York last night. Manhattan.”

It knocks the wing out of Jim. “Do they know where they’ve gone?” He asks, and it comes out sort of quiet. “Who do they think is there?”

“Yeah,” Pepper sits herself on the armchair adjacent to where Jim has his work spread out. “They don’t know everyone yet, but probably Natasha and Sam too. They’re hoping Sam might use the wings. They’re pretty easy to spot.”

Jim nods, trying to keep everything at bay. Pepper catches on right away, despite it. “Are you alright?” She asks, her voice flooded with concern. Jim nods as soon as she says it, tries not to look shaky. 

“I’m fine,” He lies, sounding a little more sure this time. “Just had a little too much coffee and not enough sleep. Let me know if you hear anything more about Steve, would you?”

Pepper smiles. “Sure.”

It takes a little while for Pepper to leave, because she wants to know how Jim’s family is doing, specifically his mother. He relays everything he knows to her, just recapping what he’s been hearing from his sisters. After a little bit, she stands. 

“I should get going.” She smiles at Jim. Then, she adds, “Don’t work too much longer.”

“No worries,” Jim replies, waving her away. “I’ll only stay for a little bit more. Tell Tony I said hi.”

Pepper winks. “Tell him yourself. He’s been pestering me to try and get another night off where we can hang out sometime soon.”

She walks out the door, and Jim lets out a breath he didn’t really realize he was holding. He knows he should try and get some work done, but his mind is still racing. They’re looking for Sam. He knows damn well they’ve been tearing everything apart trying to locate Steve, and Sam is a piece in the game.

Jim can’t think right now. He can’t work. He figures this paperwork can wait until Monday, after all.

*

The apartment is spotless when Jim walks in. He looks around, sees no one in the kitchen or living space. For a moment, he thinks Sam deep cleaned the apartment and left, and his heart rate runs wild. He hangs his key on the rack, then calls out.

“Sam?” He says, and to his relief, Sam emerges from the bedroom, looking embarrassed. Jim notices he’s wearing different clothes, and Jim recognizes them as his own. He feels his neck heat up when he sees him, but he disregards it before he can think about it too much.

Sam scratches the side of his face. Jim notices now that he has significantly more facial hair than he had when Jim had last seen him, back in Germany. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have gone in there. I got soup on my shirt. Or...your shirt. Sorry.”

Jim doesn’t care about the shirt. “It’s fine,” He assures him, but Sam doesn’t look like he believes it. Jim leans against the countertop. “Did you clean up around here? You don’t have to do that.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna do nothing.” He refutes, his arms folded. Jim doesn’t feel like arguing about it, so he just shakes his head. Sam sighs. “I can’t just...take advantage of your apartment.”

“You’re not,” Jim says a little too quickly, biting back everything he wants to say for a moment, pressing his lips together. Before he can stop himself, he says, “Ross is looking for you.”

Sam walks across the kitchen flops back onto the couch. He laughs, stretching his arms above his head and closing his eyes. “He’s been looking for all of us, you know. They’re not gonna have any luck. Keep looking in the wrong places.” 

Jim walks over to the couch, looking down at Sam from above. “They found your car last night,” Sam’s eyes open. “In Manhattan. They’ve got eyes everywhere on the streets. There’s no way you can evade them now. Does Steve even know you’re here?”

Sam sits up. “How do they know?”

 

Jim rolls his eyes. “Maybe because you were using the Falcon suit in the middle of Manhattan? You’re a wanted criminal, Sam. Everyone has eyes for you. It’s not exactly like it could have been anyone else. If anyone saw...” Jim looks over at him.

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Sam says, “Steve knows.”

Jim looks at him, but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. Instead, he just sighs. “Look. I’m not scared of Secretary Ross. He wants me to be, but you and I both know that you haven’t done anything to deserve being hunted like this.”

Sam raises his eyebrow. “So?”

“So,” Jim sighs. “Stay here. Until the searches die down. This is the last place they would expect you to be. It’s not hard for me to figure out where the search is sending them. Besides...I think Apollo likes having company.”

Sam stares at Jim for a long time, his eyes stony and his shoulders hunched over. He’s pulling at a loose thread on the shirt he’s wearing, his face perplexed. “I can’t let you do that, Jim,” He argues. “It would cost you everything.”

Jim stares back, just as fierce and grounded. “I can promise you,” He says, his voice steadier than he feels. “It would cost me a lot more to see them take you back to the raft.”

Sam looks like he wants to say something to that, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes trained on Jim’s face, unsure of what to say next. Jim waits, but he knows he’s not going to budge on this. Fuck the Accords. He believes in the mission, but he doesn’t believe that any of his former teammates who didn’t sign are criminals, not really.

“Okay,” Sam says finally, though he doesn’t sound sure. “Okay, I’ll stay. You have to let me find...ways to repay you, though.”

“You don’t--”

Sam holds up his hand. “I know I don’t have to. But I’m going to.”

So they leave it at that. This is the arrangement they are agreeing to. No signatures on a legal document, not a single person knowing the truth about it. Jim reaches out after a moment, extending a handshake for Sam to take. Sam reaches forward and holds on, the hesitation evident in his grip.

“So,” Sam says after they shake hands, sitting in the dark living area in complete silence. “You forgot to bring back takeout.”

*

For some reason, Jim expects things to get less awkward after that. Naïve, probably. Every morning Jim wakes up to Sam in the kitchen, making coffee. On the third morning Sam is there, he makes two cups. Jim raises his eyebrows when he sees it.

“Oh,” He says, the surprise evident in his voice. “You made coffee?”

Sam shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Felt like a waste, I guess. You like yours with milk, yeah?”

Jim nods, and takes the mug from Sam’s hand. They stand awkwardly beside each other in the small kitchen, saying nothing. Sam’s already made up the pull out again, the blankets folded like they always are. Jim clears his throat.

“Was thinking I’d get Thai food tonight?” He asks, because all they ever fucking talk about is food, apparently. “You like Thai food?”

Sam pulls on his ear a little, taking a sip of his coffee. He’s wearing Jim’s MIT sweatpants. They’re a little small on Sam, but they work fine. He likes them better on Sam than he does on himself. “Yeah,” He replies, short. “That would be great.”

They don’t say anything else to each other before Jim finishes his coffee. He rinses it out in the sink and goes to get ready for work. He doesn’t bother with much more than jeans and t-shirts for work nowadays since the only person he ever speaks to is Tony and Pepper. 

Sam and Apollo are both sitting on the couch when Jim walks back out, and he waves them both goodbye. Sam looks up, smiles faintly, waving. It’s awkward. Jim doesn’t really know how to combat that. He supposes that’s what happens when two people hardly know each other.

The drive to work is relatively calm. While he sits in traffic, Jim lets his mind wander to Sam in the apartment. He wonders what he does all day, just trapped in the place. Probably binges away at Netflix shows.

There’s a lot of security to get into the Avengers compound. There’s a parking booth outside, though there’s not anyone inside. Anyone who wants to get in either has to land a plane on the runway or have a badge to scan at the gates. Inside, there’s facial identification and voice recognition.

Jim is used to it, at this point. Tony has the AI embedded everywhere, including his personal residence with Pepper. He’d fought with Jim for months over installing it in Jim’s apartment as well, but Jim wasn’t feeling it. He didn’t prefer to have a computer in his walls.

Tony worries, which obviously worries Jim in turn. Tony’s always looking at doors in every new room they enter, marking exits and making escape plans. Jim does it too, but it’s more pronounced when Tony does it. He’s always on a sharp edge, teetering on falling.

Tony isn’t usually at the compound when Jim is. If he’s lucky, Tony will stop by here and there to brief Jim on what’s going on in his meetings. He could do it on the phone, but he stops by anyway because he knows that Jim needs company sometimes, which he appreciates.

There’s a lot of muddling through paperwork most of the day, like they normally do. Jim can’t get his mind off of Sam in the apartment wearing the MIT sweatpants, with Apollo on his lap. It’s an image stuck on his mind, stuck there. He thinks about the searches for the Falcon, wonders if they’ve moved on from Manhattan.

Pepper is doing business meetings this week in Beijing, so his normal hopes that Pepper will stop by and join him in some friendly banter about Tony are dashed. Most of the day drags on, Jim half focused in on the work he’s doing, and the state of the apartment he left in Manhattan.

He can hear someone in the hallway, the sound of the AI scanning them in. The door slides open, and Tony walks into the room, his sunglasses still on despite being indoors. He doesn’t say anything, just opens the fridge and gets himself a soda. He walks into the room Jim is sitting in, flopping into the armchair across from him. Jim looks at Tony curiously, closing his laptop, waiting for Tony to say something.

“This is a disaster,” Tony sighs, running his hand through his hair. He presses his lips together, then adds, “They can’t just be hiding in plain sight. In New York? Jesus, we had eyes in New Mexico, last time they were spotted.”

“This about Steve?” Jim asks, even though the answer is obvious.

Tony rolls his eyes, his leg bouncing. “You’re probably not aware. They found the car that Rogers and his pals hotwired. Not a trace anyone had even been there,” Jim takes a sharp breath, nodding like Pepper hadn’t already told him. “We’ve got the best guys on the job and nothing. Can’t even get a car until they’re already done with it. Unbelievable.”

Jim feels extremely uncomfortable having this conversation, knowing he has answers. Tony’s genuinely upset, his frustration evident in his voice and body language. Jim doesn’t know how to respond, and before he can stop himself, he says, “Maybe it’s a red herring. They don’t want to be found, right? Looking in New York is exactly where they want you to look.”

Tony shakes his head, doesn’t say anything. Then, he sits up. “I need a cigarette.”

“Thought you were quitting.”

Tony scoffs. “Didn’t you say that six years ago?”

Jim smiles, rolling his eyes. “I only smoke when I’ve been awake for longer than twenty hours, asshole. Give me some credit.”

“Perfect,” Tony shoots him a tight grin. “Then I qualify for a cigarette. I’m on hour twenty-six.”

*

When Jim gets home, the lights are off. Sam is curled up on the couch, a blanket over him. He’s sleeping like a rock, completely unaware that anyone has entered the apartment. Jim doesn’t want to wake him.

There’s a sort of fondness when he sees him. You should be more alert, soldier, He thinks to himself, gently setting the Thai food he’d picked up on the way home. Sam’s snoring, and Jim knows he’s exhausted. He wonders if he hasn’t been sleeping at night.

Jim tries to creep into the kitchen as quietly as he can, slipping his shoes off in in the process. He opens the silverware drawer, trying to get a fork out. He rifles through the silverware, and the snoring on the couch stops. Jim cranes his neck to look, and Sam sits up in his place.

“Shit,” He gasps, and he’s obviously surprised. “God, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Jim shrugs, getting a second fork in the process. “Don’t need to apologize.” Sam rolls his eyes, standing from the couch and stretching his arms. He reaches above his head, arching his back. Jim’s eyes wander to the little area of his abdomen that shows, then forces himself to look at Sam’s face before he can be exposed.

Sam’s still looking like he’s not sure, and says, “Shouldn’t be making you sneak around your own apartment.” Jim knows Sam will argue if he tries to refute him, so he keeps his mouth shut.

*

From above, everything below is small and undetectable. The air is thin and icy, completely silent above the ground. For a moment, Jim is still, his thrusters dormant as his momentum slows. Then, he starts to fall. He hurdles to the ground, painfully conscious. He can hear people below him screaming. It’s everyone he’s ever loved, watching in horror.

He spirals as he falls, his body frozen and the wind whistling in his ears. When he gets a glimpse of what’s above him, he sees a gaping wingspan reaching out his arms desperately, calling his name.

It doesn’t make a difference. He wakes up just before his head is buried in the bedrock.

*

The nightmares are the worst part about this entire thing. They don’t come every night, but when they do, it’s so real. When Jim wakes from this one, he’s gripping the sheets on his bed, his heart beating hard in his chest. He wishes he could forget the sound of the wind and the screams, mixed together like a horrible soundtrack.

In the first few months after he’d fallen, Tony had spent weeks holed up in his office, working on the Stark exoskeleton while Jim got used to physical therapy and using a wheelchair. Tony had broken down one night in his lab, because he was positive that the accident was his fault.

They’ve gotten better with the guilt. That doesn’t mean much about the nightmares, though. Jim knows that Tony wakes Pepper some nights in a cold sweat with these dreams. Jim’s torment him, remind him of the moment the arc reactor had been damaged.

There’s a routine he’s gotten used to when he wakes with the dreams. It goes like this: cup of tea, quiet kitchen reflection, and then bringing Apollo back to the bedroom with him and falling back asleep until morning. He stands from his bed, creeping across the room and toward the door, twisting the knob quietly.

He’s surprised to see Sam sitting at the kitchen table himself.

Sam’s head snaps up when he hears Jim enter the room and makes the move to stand up from the table altogether. Jim holds his hand up, pointing to the kitchen. “I’m just making tea,” He tells Sam, which visibly puts Sam at ease. He relaxes in his chair, touching his fingers to his temples.

Jim goes into the kitchen, filling the kettle with hot water. He turns to look back at Sam, who is staring intently at a wall. “Sam?” Jim says, and Sam doesn’t even flinch. Jim clears his throat, speaking again. “Hey. Sam?”

Sam notices then. He turns his head and looks at Jim, his eyes sort of faraway. “Yeah?”

“You want some tea?”

Sam blinks. “Oh. Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble.” He taps his fingers on the tabletop, an obvious nervous tick. Jim turns back to the kettle, letting it sit on the stove as he waits. He doesn’t want to suffocate Sam by trying to talk to him, and his own mind is racing enough that he doesn’t really feel like talking anyway.

When the water is finally hot, he pours it into two mugs, swiping the tea bags from the cabinet to his left. He walks it back to the kitchen table, setting one mug in front of Sam and cautiously taking the seat across from him. Sam doesn’t touch it right away.

“Do you,” Jim pauses for a moment, unsure if he should ask the question on his tongue. Sam looks back at him in the dark of the kitchen, one half of his face illuminated by the streetlights outside. Jim presses his lips together. “You get the dreams too, huh?”

Sam looks surprised that Jim knows. He looks down into his cup of tea, defeated. “Oh. How can you tell?”

Jim shrugs. “Instinct, I guess,” He feels like he’s looking at Sam in the face for the first time, waiting for the other to speak first. Jim isn’t afraid for it to be him. “You okay?” It’s a stupid question, because the answer is clearly no.

Sam’s almost glaring at the cup of tea now. He looked at Jim in earnest, sighing. “How can you do this?” He looks up at Jim when he says it, his brow wrinkled in confusion and sadness. Jim doesn’t know how to respond, because he’s not actually sure what Sam is referring to.

“I…” Jim stops, accessing the conversation and doing his best to understand what Sam means, but there’s nothing. Finally, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m confused.”

Sam sighs in frustration, leaning back in his chair. “You just…” He throws his hands up, like he’s frustrated, but he still sounds mostly defeated and sad. “You knew I was spying on you for months, you said nothing. When I blew my cover, you said nothing. I show up to your balcony late in the night as a fugitive from the law and you take me in and say nothing.”

Jim doesn’t mean to cut him off, but he says, “You’re still my teammate, even if some legal papers say otherwise. You’re family.” It’s a bold thing to say, because Jim and Sam themselves hadn’t ever been close. Still, it’s the most accurate word he can think of to describe the situation.

Sam shakes his head disapprovingly, like he’s disappointed Jim would think to trust him. He rubs his eyes and stays silent. When he finally speaks again, his voice is so gentle it’s barely above a whisper. “Teammates don’t almost get the other one killed, Jim.”

Jim knows he’s talking about the airport as soon as he says it, but he’s so knocked off guard by the statement he can’t even speak for a second. “You think that…wait,” Jim takes a deep breath. “You don’t think that was your fault.”

Sam looks up at Jim with a tired face and says nothing. Still, Jim knows that he means yes. He thinks he’s responsible for Jim’s injuries, the guilt gnawing away at him for who knows how long. It clicks suddenly, Sam’s drastic change in personality and his attempts to not leave any evidence of living around the apartment if he could help it.

“Sam,” Jim says, his voice serious and sullen. He sets down his cup of tea and keeps his gaze locked on Sam’s, the tension in the room so thick it feels like it’s weighing on Jim’s chest. “That…was an accident. It wasn’t your fault. You have to know that.”

He means it, because that’s exactly what it was. He’s had similar conversations to this one with Tony over and over again, convincing him that Jim had chosen to be there that day and that there was nothing they could do to change the outcome.

Sam shakes his head, his entire body gone rigid. His eyebrows are bunched together in the middle, and when he speaks, it comes out quick and fiery. “Stop that. Stop letting me get off blame free. That shot was meant for me, and it hit you. It could have killed you! I could have killed you.”

“You? It’s not you. What were you supposed to do?” Jim feels the heat in his head, his heart. “What was the alternative, Sam? Take the shot? Anyone would duck. Anyone with instincts would have done exactly what you did.”

“Instincts mean letting people you care about get killed?” Sam is breathing through his nose, angry now. Not at Jim, he realizes, but at himself, for everything that’s happened. “Your life…changed because of my decisions, Jim. Mine. For what? I got let off free.”

Jim stares at him in disbelief, because he can’t even believe the stance Sam is taking on this. “Let off free? You’re a fugitive. Hiding in my apartment from the law. You were kept in an underwater prison that was highly unconstitutional.”

Sam shakes his head. “You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t,” Jim argues back, pushing. Sam’s eyes are wild and filled with tears, distraught over the guilt he’s been holding over his head for so long. “I’m fine. I am.”

“I lost a teammate,” Sam breathes, suddenly. “When I was still in the Air Force. Someone I loved. You know what? He hit the ground so hard that there was no way he’d have survived the fall.”

Jim knows the feeling. He’d lost teammates in the Air Force too, people that he still thinks about almost every day, despite it being over ten years ago. People who he loved and people he couldn’t stand and everything in between. It takes a toll on you.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says quietly, and he has the strong urge to reach across the table and take Sam’s hand into his own. It’s a fleeting thought, intrusive, but once it flashes by it sticks at the front of his brain.

“It could have happened again,” Sam’s voice breaks, and his face falls. “I couldn’t catch you, no matter how fast I flew. It was when he fell all over again. I was just there to watch.”

Jim knows that guilt isn’t something you can fix overnight, and he knows it might take a long time for Sam to understand and accept that he isn’t at fault for the accident. Jim called the shot, Vision took it, and Sam ducked. It’s not something you can pin on anyone.

Instead, Jim does reach across the table. He doesn’t hold Sam’s hand (though that urge is still very strong and very hard to ignore), but instead he just rests his hand on Sam’s forearm. Sam isn’t afraid to make eye contact now, though his face still shows a deeper level of shame and disgust for himself and the crimes he thinks he is responsible for.

“I want to start over,” Jim tells him, being honest. “I know you have a lot weighing on you. I do too. It’s been…a shitty seven months. Everything about it. I won’t lie to you. But if we’re gonna do this, I want to be friends. I don’t want you feeling like you need to walk on coals around here to repay me.”

Sam clenches his jaw, and he doesn’t say anything for a long time. He inhales sharply after a short moment, and nods. “Friends. I could…I want to be friends.”

Jim leans back in his chair, satisfied with that. “Alright.”

Sam ends up reheating his tea. It’s the middle of the night, but after their heated discussion neither Jim or Sam feel like sleeping. They end up sitting at the kitchen table, talking. Sam doesn’t mention his friend again, but Jim doesn’t mind. Instead, Sam talks about his sister and his niece. He pulls a photo of them out of his pocket, and Jim smiles, taking it across the table.

After a while, they get talking about the air force. Sam mentions in passing that he’d grown up going to a World War II air force museum with his father, and he’d become fascinated with planes and flying.

“I used to build model planes,” Sam informs Jim, smiling at the thought. “They were all lined up on my shelf. So nerdy. When I joined the Air Force I was always expecting I would go right to flying planes, or whatever. Obviously, that isn’t how it works.”

Jim laughs. “How did you get put on the EXO-7 project?”

Sam stands up from the table and takes his now empty mug to the sink to rinse it out. He turns the water on, then tells Jim, “They approached me. Guess they’d been watching me since basic and thought that I was a good candidate.”

“What was it like for you, the first time? I remember the first time I flew. It was kind of nerve-wracking, but also exhilarating.” Jim doesn’t mention how once he’d gotten comfortable in the War Machine suit, how reckless he had become. He knows that Sam would probably understand.

Sam lets himself lean back against the countertop. “God,” He says wistfully, like he’s recalling a beautiful memory. “It might sound sappy, but it was so freeing. I’ve never felt more unlimited. There wasn’t a nervous bone in my body. If I had never come down, I wouldn’t have complained.”

Jim nods in agreement, because he knows that feeling. He’d been quite a bit younger when he’d experimented in the first prototype suits. It was something else. The feeling of flying was something impossible to explain, something Jim had ever only had in common with Tony. But Sam has this twinkle in his eye when he talks about flying that replicates the swooping in Jim’s chest when he thinks about being in the air.

Not to mention that other swooping in his chest that’s been rapidly overcoming him since Sam had started opening up about himself.

“You get to fly much, when you’re in hiding?” Jim asks, because he can’t imagine that Natasha would ever let Sam fly out in the open when they’re trying to keep on the down low. In all honesty, the Falcon suit is probably the easiest the spot out of everyone.

“Oh,” Sam shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “They’re…they aren’t really very functional. Those guys with the electric fingers fucked them up. Whatever they did to them, they can’t fly right anymore. Only place I’ve been able to go was your balcony because it isn’t a very high elevation.”

“Really?” Jim replies, because he hadn’t realized the Falcon suit had been damaged in that moment. Sam nods, his face slack. Jim says it before he can actually think through his options. “I could probably fix them. I actually…I’m an engineer.”

“You serious?” Sam’s face lights up when he hears him, and it makes all those butterflies in Jim’s stomach and chest take flight again. “How?”

Jim knows he shouldn’t, but he keeps going. “There’s tons of equipment at the compound, and no one is ever around. It would be easy. Send the wings to work with me sometime, and I can see what I could do with them.”

*

Fixing Sam’s wings turns out to be a promise Jim makes without much thought of how he’s actually going to do the whole thing. For starters, there isn’t any sort of equipment out in the open that is even close to the sort of caliber Jim needs to get the gears turning. 

One evening while Jim is working, he’s overlooking some emails from Tony, reviewing his schedule and meetings. There’s a large chunk blocked out, and Jim recognizes it as a trip to Germany that he’d been asked to take, on behalf of the UN. Pepper is supposed to come with him, doubling down on business in Germany for the weekend.

Before Jim can stop himself, he thinks about having the compound completely to himself for an entire week. He hasn’t assessed the damage on Sam’s wings, but he doubts it’s much more than some minor tweaks and recalibration. On the sixth floor of the building, there’s a windowless lab with all the equipment Jim would need.

Realistically, it’s crazy. To bring Sam’s gear into the compound is dangerous. Any unexpected guests or evidence left behind could cost Sam his hiding place, and...it could expose Jim for harboring him. 

Jim lets it sink in that he’s truly, officially violated the Accords now. It’s been hanging out on the back of his mind since the beginning, but it suddenly clicks. Still, it doesn’t make him feel sick to his stomach. He doesn’t feel even a sliver of guilt in the pit of his stomach for doing this, because this feels right. 

He’s always prided himself on his gut instincts. It had gotten him through countless sticky situations, thought him out of every corner he’d gotten himself into. This feels no different, at least not really. In truth, Sam hasn’t done anything violent or caused any real permanent damage. That’s just another myth the UN is trying to perpetrate. 

Jim knows exactly what labs on the compound require high level identification, which is reserved for only Jim and Tony, respectively. There’s quite a few without any windows and the exact equipment he would need to fix the EXO-7 wings. 

It’s not even a question about whether he’s going to do it. Once the suspicion is off about Sam being in New York, Sam would be able to disappear into the night with the wings if Jim did some tweaking to them. It’s a perfect out. 

When Jim drives home that night, he phones the apartment. For a minute, he worries because it rings for longer than he is expecting. Sam finally answers, and his voice sounds a little far away, the sound of something on the stove sizzling.

“Hey, Jim,” Sam says into the phone, his voice overpowered by the sounds of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

Jim presses his lips together. “Are you cooking?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sam laughs after he says it. “A little thank you? For helping me out? You’re on your way back, right?”

“Uh,” Jim says stupidly, because it feels weirdly domestic to be calling your roommate(?) and finding out they are cooking for you, and it’s even weirder how strangely romantic it feels to have someone cooking for you because they want to say thank you for something. Jim finds it in him to speak next, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m on my way back. Don’t feel pressured to cook for me, seriously.”

“See you then.” Sam says instead, and the call ends. Jim feels his lip curling into a smile, despite himself. 

The rest of the drive goes by quickly, and by the time he’d arrived home at his apartment, it’s actually a decent hour to return home. The doorman is surprised to see him, since normally the graveyard doorman is starting his shift by the time Jim returns home.

Jim rides the elevator up the his floor, and when he walks down the hallway and opens the front door, he’s smacked in the face with the smell of spice and food. He carefully hangs his jacket on the hook by the door, and when he rounds the corner, Sam is setting the kitchen table.

He’s whipped up a lot of food, and Jim realizes in the moment that it has been forever since he’s actually really cooked something for himself. He normally doesn’t have much time to dedicate to cooking, though he used to, back in his summers after graduate school. 

“Holy shit,” Jim finally says, because Sam hasn’t noticed he’s walked in, and the sound of Jim’s voice causes him to jump where he’s standing. When he turns, he smiles sheepishly, like he didn’t do this all on his own. 

“Didn’t see you there,” Sam explains, then straightens a fork. “How was work?” 

“Uh, good,” Jim replies, wandering into the kitchen awkwardly. It’s his apartment, but suddenly this feels like Sam has taken over, and Jim doesn’t mind at all. Suddenly he feels like a guest in his own home, and it’s comforting for some reason Jim can’t actually explain. “Tony is out of town with Pepper later this week, which means that’s gonna be the best time to try and bring your wings to headquarters. The lab equipment is the only thing advanced enough to work with the Falcon stuff.”

Sam nods, and then he rocks back on his heels. “Hungry?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Jim chuckles, sitting down at the table and once again feeling a lot like a dinner guest. “Thanks...again for doing this, Sam. I can’t remember the last time I cooked for myself.”

“Well,” Sam shrugs. “I think my mom would actually have had a heart attack if I turned out to be a bad cook. So, that’s good for both of us.”

*

They end up doing the dishes together after dinner in relative silence. Sam has taken to loading the dishwasher, and Jim is rinsing the plates and silverware, hand washing everything else. Sam has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Jim notices he has a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist, and it takes Jim a minute to understand what it is. When he looks harder, he notices that it’s a tree but the branches all seem out of place. One belongs on a pine tree, another on a sycamore, and something leafy and lush Jim doesn’t know the name of.

When they finish up, Jim is trying his hands when he nods at the tattoo. “What’s the significance?” When he says it, Sam doesn’t connect what he’s asking about right away, then he nods in realization.

“The tattoo? I got it a few months back with Steve and Nat, actually. You wouldn’t believe how many underground tattoo shops Natasha has connections at. This place wasn’t exactly up to code, but...they did the job, so. I think it turned out pretty good. No infections either so, win-win.

“But...it’s kind of supposed to be a family tree. That’s why all the branches are mismatched. Because we’re family.” Sam smiles knowingly to himself, absent-mindedly running his index finger over the inked part of his wrist. 

Jim feels weirdly bold, probably a result of the wine they’d been drinking, so he presses his lips together and holds his hand out. “Can I see?” He asks, and his voice comes out barely above a whisper. They’re standing alone in the kitchen, and in this moment they are the only two people in the entirety of Manhattan. 

Sam nods, extending his hand toward Jim, and Jim takes his wrist into his hand, looking at the small figure tattooed there. No one says anything, and Jim lets go before it seems like he’s holding his hand too long.

“They’ve got the same one.” Sam explains as Jim studies the tattoo. 

“You miss them?” Jim asks.

Sam smiles sadly, rolling his sleeve down. “‘Course I miss them. Love them more than anything in the world.”

Jim feels this sort of emptiness in his chest, and suddenly his mind skips to Pepper and Tony. He thinks about being apart from them, possibly for an extended period of time. He thinks of them bone tired, running in every direction from the law. It’s a gut wrenching thought, and Jim knows he’s on the side of this where he’ll see Tony and Pepper multiple times in the next few days.

Sam doesn’t have that luxury. 

Jim thinks about Tony, about the way he propels himself toward self-destruction. The way he stays awake for days at a time, doing everything he can to avoid the nightmares that come at night. Jim thinks about loving him, so deeply that it was all consuming at first. Sheepishly, Jim thinks about the years ago he spent hoping for any sign Tony could have loved him in the same way, but Pepper is the axis that Tony rotates around, and Jim’s feelings faded long ago. Still, it’s a part of the relationship he’s built with Tony.

“It’s not fair,” Jim declares, his tone steady and confident. He sets his jaw, folding his arms. “You shouldn’t have to hide like this, lose the people you love because of some legal documents. You’re a human being. They aren’t treating you like one.”

Sam chuckles dryly, wiping his hands on the dish towel hanging from the stove behind him. “Yeah, well. Not like they have much of a history of treating me very well, all things considered. I was the one of us locked up in an illegal underwater prison.” 

Jim stares at him for a moment, and Sam doesn’t say anything. He rubs the back of his neck, closing his eyes like he’s exhausted. It makes Jim’s blood boil to see him like this, isolated from everyone in the world he’s ever felt safe with. “If they ever tried to do this to me and Tony, I would never forgive them. You should be angry.”

“Of course I’m angry,” Sam replied, defeated. “Of course I am. This fucking sucks. It sucks, but I signed up for it. I said yes the day Steve showed up on my doorstep with his ruggedly handsome face and begged for help.” He sort of says the last phrase like its funny, but his face shows no evidence of amusement.

Jim wishes he knew what that meant. Why Sam dropped everything to help Steve. He doesn’t feel like it’s his place to ask, but the curiosity is there anyway. He waits instead, letting Sam work up to whatever he wants to say.

Sam exhales, looking anywhere but at Jim’s face. “I spent enough of my life hiding, you know. Wasn’t exactly easy growing up so deep in the closet you thought you’d never come out.” Jim’s taken aback by it, but he doesn’t want his expression to give the wrong impression, so instead he nods. “I mean--God. I was in the force for five years and four of them I couldn’t even tell my closest friends on my team that I was seeing somebody.”

Jim is all too familiar with DADT. He’d never gotten into trouble with the whole thing, because he wasn’t much of an open book, anyway. Didn’t mean that the entire situation wasn’t a constant kick in the face, a reminder that you weren’t allowed to be honest about who you were. LGBT rights were progressing, but DADT always made it easy to remember how the government really felt about gay soldiers. He’s glad that it’s gone.

Jim reaches out to touch Sam, but he hesitates. He doesn’t know if they are close enough for that, if he’s allowed to do this. Sam looks back at him, daring him to touch him. Jim isn’t afraid. He rests his hand on Sam’s forearm, trying to look as sure as he can. “I was there too. I would never want to do it again. You shouldn’t have to.”

Sam’s expression is unreadable, and it’s driving Jim crazy. He doesn’t know how Sam is reacting, though he supposes it can’t really be negative. But then Sam cracks a smile, a faint shadow of the bright ones Jim has seen before. 

“Well,” He hums, his voice quiet over the sound of the dishwasher. “Don’t have to hide from everybody.” He pats Jim on the shoulder and steps out of the kitchen, not needing to say anything else. 

*

Wednesday morning, when Jim wakes up, he has three text messages from Tony. The first is related to something they’d been discussing last night, some paperwork that needs to be completed in order to do a small outreach mission in Toronto within the next two months. The other two are goodbye messages with a string of emojis. 

Jim gets ready for work and walks into the living room when he’s ready to leave. Sam had already gotten the wings ready for transport the night before, retracted into a small bag that is sitting by the front door to the apartment. Now, Sam is still sleeping on the pull-out couch, snoring. Apollo doesn’t wake when Jim enters the room, instead keeping his nose pressed underneath Sam’s arm. It makes Jim smile. 

He moves quietly across the room, taking his keys from the hook and slinging Sam’s bag over his back. It’s a discreet black backpack, something Jim had dug out of his closet. The wings are able to retract to the size of a flashdrive if they need to, a modification Tony had made when Sam had started regularly going on Avenger’s missions. Now, it’s a feature that both Jim and Sam are able to use to their advantage.

Jim gets to work earlier than normal, setting up his workspace in a lab on the third floor. None of the employees in the building without clearance can’t enter, and there are no windows. The lab is completely silent, empty. 

He gets to work.

*

He’s able to figure out the problem with the wings right away. The thrusters have been severely damaged, meaning they aren’t able to thrust for longer than very short periods of time. No wonder if was affecting Sam’s ability to reach high elevation.

It’s not an incredibly complicated fix, and if anyone was the one for the job, it’s Jim. He’s more familiar with Stark technologies than most, which means he’s able to bypass a few preliminary issues and start working on returning the thrusters to their original functionality. Problem is, they’re still part of a complicated system of working parts. It’s going to take time.

Jim tries to calculate how long it will take in his head, and he decides that if he works late, he can probably get the wings back to working normally by the time Tony and Pepper get back from Germany on Tuesday. That includes working on weekends. 

Somehow, Jim is supposed to get the paperwork for Tony finished in that time, too. It’s a lot. Of course, this has no real effect on Jim’s overall goal to get the wings functional again. He’s sure Sam is tired of staying in his apartment all day, and he’s even more sure that Sam is wanting nothing more than to reunite with Steve again. 

Jim just hopes he can finish these thrusters faster than he’s going now. 

The rest of the afternoon gives way to small victories: bypassing a system problem, and being able to work on the inside of the wings in order to figure out the actual source of the issue that’s keeping the thrusters from being fully operational. He doesn’t hear or see a single person nearly all day, until around seven that evening.

At first, he thinks his ears are playing tricks on him, because he’s in a lab that can only be accessed by, to Jim’s knowledge, Tony himself. Still, he can hear someone outside the door, typing in the four digit code.

The wings are able to retract quickly, so Jim nearly throws himself over the side of the table to shrink them back down. The security process to get inside the lab takes only about thirty seconds. Jim throws the wings in his back pocket, and as he does, the double doors open to reveal Pepper standing in the doorframe.

“Oh,” She sighs, like she’s relieved. “Rhodey, what are you doing here?” 

Jim racks his mind for an excuse, and what comes out is only half-believable. “Wanted to get some paperwork done, so I decided I’d come here. Since there’s only access for high ranking members of the team.” He scratches the back of his neck, and he hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s talking out of his ass. Luckily, Pepper doesn’t seem to think too much about the validity of his excuse. 

She shrugs off her blazer, and Jim wonders why she’s not with Tony, like it says on her schedule. Pepper runs a hand over her face, and she must know what Jim is thinking because she says, “My meetings in Germany got cancelled. Tony wanted to try and make it into some hybrid romantic getaway slash work trip, but I declined.” She laughs, sounding exhausted. “You know how he is.”

Jim nods, playing on amusement. He’s sort of itching for Pepper to leave the room, because he doesn’t have a lot of time to work on these wings before it edges into taking too long. Pepper hasn’t taken a seat, so he hopes that means she’s on her way out.

“Well,” She says, looking around the room. “I’ll let you get back to work. Just wasn’t sure where you were, that’s all.”

Jim tries to smile and laugh, though he just wishes Pepper would leave. He loves her, and he can tell she’s upset about something, but he just doesn’t feel like risking anything by telling her the truth about what’s going on, no matter how much he wants to. Pepper turns and walks toward the door to the lab, and just as she’s about to leave, she turns. 

“Do you want to maybe do something tonight? Or over the weekend?” She suggests, smiling. “We could talk shit about my boyfriend, your best friend. Take tequila shots, or something. I need a night off.” 

For a split second, Jim almost says yes, because he loves spending time with Pepper. Joking about Tony is a pastime they both excel at, despite loving him so much. She’s funny and charming and incredibly intelligent, and Jim counts her as one of his closest friends, too. 

Of course, then he remembers that he’s got Sam in his apartment and the thought of ditching him to go out isn’t very appealing. Jim shakes his head in response, rubbing his elbow. “Wish I could, but I’m kind of busy for a little while.” He thinks about making up another lie, but he doesn’t want to be any more dishonest than he already is. 

Pepper waves her hand. “That’s okay. Really. Maybe another time.”

It’s silent. Jim wants to ask something, but he’d afraid he’ll give himself away. He just has to know. Before he can stop himself, he tries to ask as casually as possible. “Any updates on the situation with Rogers? Do they know if he’s in New York or not?”

 

Pepper waves her hand. “Oh, you know. I don’t know everything, obviously, but Tony tells me the stuff that I’m not even supposed to know anyway. They’ve concluded that if he was in New York, he’s not here anymore. I guess they’ve got some sort of lead in the midwest now, but I’m not sure who is looking into it.”

Jim nods, doing his best to hide his relief. “Ah, well. Hopefully they find them soon.”

After a bit more small talk, she leaves. Jim lets go of a breath he’s been holding in his chest, relieved that he’d been able to cover his tracks so quickly. It’s a minor problem that Pepper is, in fact, in town this weekend, because she has the same level access that Jim does, and she could walk in on him at any time. 

He figures the paperwork Tony wants done can wait. If he can get the wings back to being operational before Tony gets home, then Sam can get back to Steve and Natasha. That’s the end goal here. He’s got weeks to finish this paperwork and to do shots with Pepper in downtown SoHo.

*

When Jim gets home, Sam’s cooked again. It’s a pasta dish this time, and Jim can smell it as soon as he gets out of the elevator. The smell hits him in the face when he opens the door to his apartment, completely blindsided by the change of atmosphere he’s been used to for so long. He’s so used to coming home to a dark and empty apartment, his only company being Apollo. 

Not for the first time, Jim notices the domesticity of the entire thing, and lets the warmth and comfort of the thought nestle itself in his chest. Sam is standing in the kitchen, playing some music so loud while he cleans the stove that he hasn’t even noticed Jim has come home.

When Sam notices Jim, he sheepishly turns down the volume. “Hey!” He greets Jim, as he finishes scrubbing the stovetop. “Sorry. That might have gotten out of hand.”

Jim laughs. “Don’t worry about it.” He walks up to where Sam has already got the food all set out, and he feels guilty that he didn’t bring anything in return. He turns and looks at Sam, who is making his way over to the kitchen table, too. 

“I feel like you’re spoiling me,” Jim admits, shaking his head. “You should let me do something. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this for me.”

Sam shakes his head. “Man, I just like to cook. First time I ever hung out with Steve and Natasha I made them breakfast. It’s like, a personality trait at this point.”

Jim sits down at the table, smiling despite himself. “Maybe I’ll have to return the favor,” He suggests, and Sam’s got this look on his face like he’s not sure what Jim in alluding to. It makes the heat creep into the tips of Jim’s ears, because he knows it sounded like innuendo. “I mean by making breakfast, obviously.”

“Sure,” Sam says, nodding fiercely. “No yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

“So,” Jim says, trying to deflect the conversation after their awkward exchange. “I don’t think I know the full story about how you met Steve in the first place.”

Sam looks a little bit embarrassed, rolling his eyes. “He hasn’t told you?”

 

“Nope.”

“Okay,” Sam takes a deep breath, a smile playing on his lips. “We met while I was out jogging. Kind of. I knew he jogged there in the mornings, heard about it from other guys at the VA. One morning while I was getting ready to go out, I remembered he jogged there and just sort of decided to go.

“So, I show up. And he’s just running as fast as he can, so I’m just finding any way to talk to the guy, because he’s probably the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. It was literally embarrassing. After we finished the run I tried to introduce myself and he started walking away, but I got him to come back. I even gave him my number...but he didn’t seem too interested in anything serious, I guess. It was casual for a bit, but ever since Barnes was spotted he just...changed. He loves that guy.” Sam doesn’t seem sad telling this story, even though it sort of sounds like he should be sad, in Jim’s opinion. 

“So…” Jim tries not to dwell on the obvious weight looming in the air. “How did he find out about the wings?”

Sam laughs. “Oh my God. I had a line planned out and everything.”

*

Dinner ends with Sam in complete and utter shock that Jim has never actually watched Dirty Dancing, which in Jim’s opinion isn’t that shocking considering it’s a movie about a white, teenaged, straight couple. Still, Sam insists.

“Friends don’t let friends live their lives without watching the entirety of Dirty Dancing,” Sam replies, shaking his head in disappointment. “The last number is enough to save whatever beef you’ve got with the rest of the movie. Not that there should be any.”

Jim doesn’t really need much convincing. Jim doesn’t mind watching the movie, despite the subjects. Somehow, Jim feels like he wants to know everything about Sam. He likes listening to him talk, likes listening to him shuffling around the apartment. It’s...nice having someone around.

Which, of course, terrifies him. It’s not like Jim is blind to the feeling he gets when Sam makes jokes, or when he snores on the pull-out couch. Not to mention that other feeling Jim gets every time he sees Sam borrowing his clothes.

Jim rents the movie on Prime, and when they move to the living room to watch it, they hesitate for a moment before sitting down. The couch is still pulled out, and Sam moves to fold it up. Jim stops him before he can think of the implication.

“Don’t,” Jim says, shaking his head. “It’s more comfortable this way, you know?”

Sam just smiles, throwing one of the blankets on the pull-out at Jim’s chest. When they finally settle in, Jim knows it’s definitely transparent that he suggested they lay down on the couch bed together, and part of him doesn’t care. He sort of wants to just say fuck it and lay his head on Sam’s chest.

He doesn’t, but it’s a nice thought. Even if it’s not going to happen. 

The movie, by no surprise, is really good. It’s super cheesy, and the main character is literally named Baby, but Jim can see why it’s a classic. Of course, it’s also pretty easy to see why Sam likes it. Somehow, it just makes sense. If someone were to ask him to guess what Sam’s favorite movie was before this, he probably would have picked something like this one.

Sam must be exhausted, because he can’t seem to keep his eyes open. Halfway through the movie, the comments stop. Jim just assumes it’s because he’s watching, but when he finally looks over as the credits roll, he realizes Sam must have fallen asleep.

Jim doesn’t move for a moment, not wanting to wake him. He doesn’t really know what Sam does during the day, but Jim likes to think that he’s still catching up on the months of sleeping in dirty motels and in cars. He edges himself toward the side of the bed, and Sam lets out a slew of incoherent grumbles.

Jim waits a second before lifting himself off of the pull-out couch, then decides that, fuck it. He creeps to the other side of the bed and readjusts the blanket on top of Sam. He opens one eye when Jim does this, a little confused and groggy.

“Did I fall asleep?” He asks, his eyes already closed like he’s going to go back to sleep again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jim whispers. “It was a good movie. Thanks for showing me.”

“Thank you,” Sam says, quiet as a mouse. “What you’ve done for me means a lot.”

Jim doesn’t respond. Sam doesn’t move again, already back to sleep. Jim waits a moment before walking back to his bedroom, a warm feeling enveloping his chest like firelight. He crawls into bed, Apollo already asleep at the foot. He can hear Sam snoring in the other room, and he never wants him to leave. 

*

Jim doesn’t see anyone at work the next day. Tony’s got a couple days to come back, and without the distractions Jim is able to make major progress on the wings. He makes sure he keeps his eye on the security cameras in the hallways surrounding the lab, but Pepper doesn’t even show up to the headquarters all day. 

He’s finally able to diagnose the main problem and get past all the little tricks Tony had used to make the wings pretty uniquely “Stark” in its makeup. Around five p.m., Jim dials Sam on his phone and lets him know that he’ll be home late. Sam tells him not to worry.

As he nears completion, a voice in the back of his head reminds him that as soon as Sam has the wings up and running, he will leave. Jim wants him to get back to Steve and Natasha, but he also doesn’t know how he’s going to feel with the apartment empty again.

This has always been the agreement. It’s just that Jim really likes having him around. It’s just nice having someone to eat dinners with and watch movies. The fact that there’s someone home to check on Apollo during the day is just a relief. 

Jim considers, only briefly, that this is probably how it feels to be in a relationship. 

Not that that thought is more than something intrusive and passing. Sam hasn’t really shown any interest, and judging by the tactics he used to hit on Steve he probably would have made some sort of move on Jim already if he was feeling like it. 

So, the wings being functional are just a step closer to an empty apartment. Which Jim had gotten used to before. Just because he’s enjoying having someone around doesn’t mean it has to become his new normal. 

He keeps working.

*

Jim doesn’t get home until late that night. When he creeps into the living area, the lights are out and Jim tries to keep his volume down so he doesn’t wake Sam up. However, when he makes his way into the kitchen, Sam is waiting with a mug in his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just hands Jim the cup of tea he’s made for him.

He shuffles out of the room, crawling under the blankets on the pull out couch. He’s wearing another one of Jim’s MIT hoodies, this one a deep maroon with white lettering. Jim wants to give it to Sam to keep, something to keep him warm while he’s out on the road for who knows how long.

Jim hangs around in the kitchen for a while, drinking his tea. He worries a little he’s keeping Sam awake, because he’s been tossing and turning the entire time since he crawled under the covers. Jim waits for Sam to tell him to leave, or to just fall asleep. 

He does neither. Eventually, Rhodey rinses out his mug in the sink and heads for his bedroom. He lingers in the doorway, debating on whether or not he should say something to Sam, ask him if he’s alright. He’s not sure if something happened, or if Jim is just being paranoid. 

He leans against the doorframe, going back and forth. Eventually, he whispers, “Thanks for the tea.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

Jim can’t help but fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

That night, he gets a different kind of nightmare.

At first, he thinks he’s falling again. He can hear the wind in his ears, but then he realizes from the tugging weight on his back that’s he’s someone else. Suddenly, he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, watching as Sam spirals towards the ground. He can’t move or breathe. He can’t even call out his name, but all he can think about are the things he hasn’t said. He wants to ask him to stay. He wants to hold him for the first time.

He can’t. Sam is gone.

When he wakes up in his bed, there is sun shining through the blinds. It’s a Saturday morning, and Jim can hear someone awake in the kitchen, cooking something. For a moment, he doesn’t move a single muscle, just listening to the sound of sizzling bacon outside his bedroom door. He lets himself know that Sam is okay, that he’s outside listening to Marvin Gaye and probably dancing around the kitchen. 

When Jim finally builds up his strength to open his door, Sam’s face lights up at the sight of him. Whatever funk he was in last night has dissolved into his normal, happy self. He’s exactly how Jim expected he’d be, and it’s comforting.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” Sam greets him, flipping a pancake on the griddle in front of him. “You feelin’ like breakfast?”

Jim’s eye catches on the clock, and he flushes when he realizes that somehow he’s slept until noon. Sam doesn’t comment, but Jim shakes his head.

“I can’t believe I slept this late.” Jim remarks, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sam responds, shrugging his shoulders and handing Jim a butter knife to keep on buttering the pancakes. “I checked in on you but...you were passed right out. Thought you could use the rest.” He says it with a little smile on his face.

Something about it makes him want to kiss Sam right there on the kitchen. That’d been happening a lot more lately than he’d care to admit.

Then he thinks about the dream. He thinks about someone finding Sam in the apartment and dragging him back to the raft, his life ended by Jim’s mistakes.

“Hey,” Jim says as he butters the pancakes. “So...I think I’m gonna try to get the wings done today. I think if I put a day of work in today, we could get them up and working again. You don’t mind spending the day here, do you?”

Sam sags his shoulders a tad, shaking his head. “Nah. Guess you should probably get your work in. Just look forward to spending the weekend with someone, you know?” He smiles a little mournfully. 

Jim looks at him with concern. “I just figured you would want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Sam just shakes his head. Jim doesn’t really know what to say to that, so instead he just shuts his mouth and continues with helping Sam butter the pancakes. Their hands keep brushing as they move side by side, and Jim feels his skin heating up.

“Well,” Jim says finally. “Kind of have an idea of something we can do with the wings once they’re repaired.”

*

When he finally brings home the wings that night, Sam is so excited he seems like he’s going to explode. He runs his fingers over the long wingspan, spread across the floor of the living room. Jim watches him, holding his breath. He feels a slight pang of disappointment, of this arrangement reaching an end. Not that he’d ever say it out loud. 

Sam doesn’t spend too much time looking over the wings, all things considered. After about ten minutes, he stands from the floor and stretches his hands above his head. “They look fantastic,” He remarks, sincere. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Jim shrugs, playing off how much work it actually took to repair the damn things. “If there’s anything wrong with them, just let me know. I didn’t build the damn things, but I think I did a pretty good job...but just in case.”

“Yeah, well. There is nobody else on this planet I would trust to do work on these things than you. Honest!” Sam laughs, then nods his head toward the television set. “Want to watch some late-night-tv with me? I kind of need something to numb my brain.”

Jim can’t read the look on his face, but agrees anyway. They end up back on the pull-out couch, not for the first time this week. They’re just watching shitty reruns, but Jim can’t stop focusing on the way their shoulders are brushing. He feels like a teenage boy, all riled up by this sort of thing. 

The glow of the tv is the only light in the room. Jim loses track of time after a few hours, his eyelids heavy and Apollo sleeping in the small space between him and Sam. Jim tries to stay awake longer than Sam does, since he’s not really sure when the right time to excuse himself actually is. Of course, he fails.

He doesn’t remember when he falls asleep, but he wakes up to the television on mute and almost starts immediately panicking when he realizes that the weight on his shoulder isn’t Apollo, but Sam leaning against him. Jim doesn’t want to move, hyper-aware of Sam’s weight against him. He doesn’t for a moment, letting himself listen to Sam’s breathing. Eventually, he decides he has to move sometime. He tries his best to untangle himself from Sam without waking or moving him, but it proves to be impossible. Jim gets all the way to the edge of the bed, and just as he’s about to stand up, he feels someone’s hand on his wrist. He tenses at the contact, unsure of what Sam is going to do.

“Wait,” Sam murmurs hoarsely, his voice dripping with sleep and exhaustion. “Just stay.”

Jim doesn’t move for a second, unsure if he heard Sam correctly. Sam doesn’t move his hand from Jim’s wrist, and Jim wants to so badly. He knows that saying yes might mean changing everything, or it might not. Still, he’s suddenly so tired that he finds himself leaning back into Sam.

It takes them a minute, because Jim has to take off the braves and then find a comfortable position, but it ends with Sam’s arm around Jim’s waist, his face pressed into Jim’s back. It’s so surreal and Jim isn’t exactly sure if it’s really a dream or not, but he decides that if it is some sort of dream, he doesn’t want to wake up.

*

The next day, Jim wakes up late. Normally, Sam is an early riser, but not this morning. Instead, Jim wakes up with Sam’s arms still around him. Jim forgets for only a moment why he’s there, but then the memory comes flooding back. He doesn’t feel like moving from his spot quite yet, instead pressing his face into the crook of Sam’s neck and sighing. 

When Sam finally does wake up, no one moves a muscle for a few minutes. Then, Sam finally rolls onto his back and stretches his arms above his head. Jim wonders if he’s going to say anything about the night before, but he just smiles timidly at Jim.

“You want breakfast?” He asks instead.

*

Jim proposes that they test the wings out once it’s dark outside and the traffic dies down a little bit outside. He’s the only person with access the the roof, and if they plan it right, Sam should be able to fly without being noticed. They wait all day, and once the sun sets, their eyes are on the streets below. It’s a Sunday and it takes some time, but eventually there’s enough spacing between the taxis that they decide it’s probably safe.

For the first time since the first night he’d landed on the balcony, Sam suits up. It’s just been at the top of Jim’s coat closet for the past few weeks, begging to be used. They climb the stairs to the balcony together, trying to keep any disturbance level to a minimum. 

When the open the door, the cool air smacks Jim in the face. Sam takes a deep breath of the air, a grin spread across his face. He has his goggles around his neck, and the wings retracted into the pack hooked to his back. They stand in relative silence while Sam examines the rooftop. Eventually, he decides that the west side has the best space.

Jim stands with his hands folded across his chest, his eyes trained on Sam as he carefully makes note of the wind factors and plays with some feature on the wings accordingly. Finally, he looks over his shoulder.

“Alright,” Sam breathes. “Now, listen--When I step off the ledge here, I’m gonna dip down at first, so don’t freak out right away. Count to three, and if I’m not up in by then you can look over the edge.”

Jim nods. “I’ve seen you fly Wilson. If anything happens you can blame my faulty engineering.” He bites his lip, trying to hide the worry pooling in his stomach. Rationally, he knows it will end up okay. Rationally.

Sam puts the red tinted goggles over his eyes and extends the wings outward.

Jim notices he doesn’t seem nervous. He stands back from the ledge a few hundred feet, waiting. Then, he moves forward, picking up speed as he approaches the ledge. His pace turns into a sprint just before he reaches the edge, and suddenly he’s over and his wings dip down below Jim’s line of sight. He holds his breath.

One.

Jim wonders what happens if he never comes up.

Two. 

He doesn’t get to three. Sam comes straight up, a whistling sound flying through the air as he glides. Jim’s seen him fly hundreds of times of missions and during flight practice, but never like this. In this way, he lives up the his hero alias. He looks so free, so happy. Even from below, Jim can’t miss the grin on his face as he loops through the air, almost silent with some adjustments Jim had made to the gliders and thrusters.

Jim knows the feeling of flying this way, craves it. Even after everything, all the scares, Jim can’t seem to keep his feet on the ground for very long. Sam’s flight is like a newborn’s first cry, raw and full of life. Jim loses track of time as he spirals above him, blissful and in a world of his own. 

After some time, he lands with both feet on the rooftop. He’s breathing in short gasps, the smile immovable from his face. He removes the goggles from his eyes and retracts the wings, shaking his head in awe.

“Jesus, Jim,” Sam huffs out, his voice nearly vibrating with excitement and adrenaline. “These are incredible. You didn’t just fix them...you upgraded them. Oh my god. They fly so smoothly. I can’t even believe it. I could kiss you right now.”

Jim pauses. He looks at Sam’s face, his wide grin, the light dancing in his eyes from flying. He remembers the feeling of pressing his face into Sam’s neck and forgetting about everything else. He takes a deep breath. “So do it.”

Sam looks up at him, almost to examine his face. He tries to read Jim’s face, but Jim just stares back. It’s almost like a challenge, waiting for Sam to step up. Jim reaches out and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. Sam’s face relaxes, and he lets his hand rest on the back of Jim’s neck.

The wind whistles in their ears as they kiss, but Jim can’t hear or feel a thing. The movement of their mouths starts slow and careful, but turn sure and confident. Jim knows now how long he’s wanted this, how many times he had looked at Sam’s mouth and wished for this moment. Yet now, feeling Sam kiss him back makes him wonder if he’s been spending all of his time with the same secret want. 

They pull apart for a split second, faces warm and without much breath in their lungs. No one says anything for a long while, just examining each other’s faces and listening to the sounds of the city below. 

Finally, Sam rasps, “Can’t explain how much I’ve wanted to have you right here.”

Jim doesn’t let him speak again, closing the empty space between them again and kissing him over and over again, on the side of his mouth and his cheek and his nose. Between his eyebrows and beneath his left ear. Each time he connects it back to his mouth, completely lost in Sam’s everything.

At some point, their fingers are too cold to keep standing on the roof like this. Sam just pulls Jim beside him as they walk downstairs their hands clasped. Jim feels like a teenager, his heart hammering in his chest and his hands still shaking. When they finally get inside the dark apartment, Sam closes the door and presses Jim against it, exploring his mouth and jawline with ease. 

He pulls back and Jim comes back to himself, raising an eyebrow. Sam has an evil look on his face, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

He leans forward and gets close to Jim’s ear, waiting to speak. Jim gets goosebumps on his arm. “Hey,” Sam says finally. “I’m changing out of this clunky gear.”

He takes a few steps back, smiling with a wicked look on his face. Jim shakes his head, groaning but still smiling so hard his cheeks kind of hurt. “Fuck you,” He calls after him. “That was cold.”

That night, Sam sleeps in the bedroom instead, his arms wrapped around Jim. In that moment, everything feels like it fits together. Of course Sam is here. Of course. Jim’s never believed in fate, but he wonders now that whatever led him to land on the balcony that night--or whatever led him to place the listening device in the first place--might just be it.

*

Things change in the apartment. They don’t talk about it, but Sam stops sleeping on the couch in the living room. Instead, they’ve gotten into the routine falling asleep together after long days, most of the time in the middle of late-night conversation.

Jim can’t remember the last time he’s felt this comfortable with anyone who wasn’t Tony. And this comfort...it’s different than hanging around Tony’s ridiculously large apartment drinking beers. It’s a different kind of warmth, waking up to someone curled around you. 

Sam is an early riser. He usually wakes up much earlier than Jim, probably still used to his schedule of running at the crack of dawn. He sometimes makes breakfast, but mostly he just showers and makes two cups of coffee. When he rolls over in the morning to get out of bed, Jim grips his arm.

“Don’t,” He rasps, his voice heavy from sleep. “Stay for a few more minutes.”

Sam studies Jim laying underneath the duvet cover, looking up at Sam with pleading eyes and a small grin on his face. Sam rolls his eyes, relenting. He scoots over so that their foreheads are resting together, breathing in. Jim knows that Sam isn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so he peeks his eyes open. Sam’s dark brown eyes stare back in the watery morning light.

Jim wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him a lot, and he’s come to realize that he’s wanted to kiss Sam for a long time. The nice thing about the urge, now, is that he can. So he does. He fills the small gap between them, pressing his mouth to Sam’s. Of course, they don’t kiss for long before Sam pulls back.

“Try this again once you’ve brushed your teeth.” He laughs, the gap between his front teeth showing as he rolls onto his back. 

Jim shakes his head, laughing with Sam. “That was more romantic in my head.”

Sam looks over at him, smiling enough that the crows feet by his eyes are apparent. “It was still romantic, wouldn’t recommend it, but it was--” Jim cuts him off by throwing a pillow at him. 

Jim keeps showing up to work. Tony comes home on Tuesday without a single suspicion that anything has gone on at the compound, and Jim lets himself get back into his routine as much as possible. He’s been trying to work more regular hours, because Sam is still at home and now Jim’s got an actual reason to be at his apartment.

Sam doesn’t mention Steve or Natasha to Jim. Jim knows he’s been keeping contact with them over the phone, but they haven’t talked about it since he first mentioned them. Jim had always assumed that once the Falcon wings were fully operational again, they would part ways. 

He’s happy to be proven wrong. 

Tony and Pepper have been trying to arrange a time to get dinner for with Jim weeks. They usually hang out pretty regularly, but it’s been awhile. Jim knows it’s partially his fault because he keeps finding excuses not to go, but between work and having a secret guest in his apartment, Jim can’t keep up. It’s not intentional, but he still feels a pit of guilt in his stomach every time he has to bail on plans. It’s not that he’s trying to avoid them...he just doesn’t know how to split the time.

Today is no exception. Tony has found a break in his schedule the coincides with Pepper’s, and they’re all trying to talk over a three-way video call. Pepper is suggesting that maybe it would be best if they decided to meet on Friday night. 

“I think I can make it work,” Tony says, a smile playing on his lips. “I think I could reschedule the meeting I have that afternoon so we could meet a little earlier in the evening. What is your afternoon like, Pepper?”

Jim already knows that weekends are especially busy for him, and he and Sam have been creating a steady list of movies to binge over weekends. They continue discussing the plans, and Jim zones out, thinking about what excuse to make. He could say something about work, but Tony is up-to-date about everything Jim is working on, and God forbid he offers to help. He already has problems maintaining a regular sleep schedule.

“Shit, guys,” Jim sighs. “I’m sorry. I have something Friday night.”

Tony scoffs, teasing. “What is something? I’m assuming if this was just plans with your mom you’d have told us?” He waggles his eyebrows at the camera. Pepper represses a laugh. “You been using Tinder like I told you to? Seriously, no judgements if the answer is yes.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “No, fuck you!” Tony laughs even harder.

“So I’m right, yeah? No--don’t make that face. I can read you like a book, Rhodes. Don’t we at least get any information about the mystery man? What’s his name?” Jim’s heart races as Tony teases on, because he’s right: Tony can read him like a book. He tries to deflect as smoothly as possible.

“It’s not a Tinder date, you asshole,” Jim tries to crack a smile, playing at teasing Tony back in return. He racks his mind for an excuse, and finally settles on saying, “I’ve got to deep clean the apartment...I’ve got someone staying over next week.”

Partial truth. 

“Alright, man.” Tony finally seems to accept the excuse. “I’m still encouraging the setup of a Tinder account though, don’t think I’m backing down.”

“We’ll miss you,” Pepper adds, smiling sweetly at the camera. “Let us know if you need anything.”

The call wraps up, and Jim lets himself fall back onto the couch in relief. Hiding an entire person in his apartment is becoming harder and harder, and he doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to keep Tony and Pepper from being suspicious. 

*

When Jim gets home, Sam is looking out the window. The curtains are usually drawn in the apartment for security, but Sam’s peeking through them to look out onto the sidewalk fifty floors below. Outside, it’s raining.

Sam looks over his shoulder, greeting Jim by kissing him. Jim looks down at the street below, where Sam is watching.

“You know me,” he shrugs. “I’ve always liked the view from above.”

Jim nods, watches as the people below shuffle below them, bumping into each other and splashing through puddles. They’re all carrying umbrellas, protecting them from the elements showering down on them. Sam closes the curtain.

“How was work?” Sam asks, falling back onto the couch. He’s wearing Jim’s MIT sweatshirt again, having completely adopted it at this point. Jim doesn’t know if he’ll ever wear it again. He sighs.

He doesn’t want to tell Sam about Tony. He knows how Sam will be, knows how easily he could recoil if he thought he was keeping Jim from seeing Tony. Truth is, Sam is the reason he’s been neglecting his friends, but not because he doesn’t want to see them. He’s conflicted about everything that’s going on, conflicted about the fact that Sam has to stay locked in this apartment in the first place. 

Jim had never been close with Steve, and Natasha wasn’t exactly the most open person he’d ever known. Even Sam, friendly and bright with a shared past in the Air Force wasn’t really someone Jim had ever been good friends with when the Avengers weren’t fucking fractured. They were colleagues. 

Jim shrugs his shoulders at Sam’s question, avoiding it altogether. He hopes that Sam won’t push him for more information, so he busies himself by pouring himself a glass of wine. “You want some?” He asks Sam. 

“Yeah, sure.” Sam stands up from the couch, sitting himself instead on one of the kitchen barstools. He watches Jim carefully as he takes the wine glasses out of the overhead cabinet, wordlessly analyzes him in his therapist way. “Everything okay?”

Jim tries to look entirely relaxed as he slides the wine glass to Sam, nodding. “I’m good.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay, you’re lying.”

Jim clears his throat. “It’s that obvious?”

Sam shrugs. “I’m used to this.” He takes a sip of his wine, waiting for Jim to expand further. Of course, if there’s one thing James Rhodes isn’t, it’s a quitter. He keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to mess up whatever is happening between them. 

Maybe it’s because he’s scared that Sam will have to leave. He doesn’t know why it scares him so much. The thought of not seeing him again is a dilemma Jim had never considered having when he’d signed the accords. 

“I’m just,” Jim sighs. It’s not even really about Tony, it’s just about the dramatic shift in his life that’s he’s trying to reconcile. “You ever regret not signing those accords?”

Sam scoffs. “No, I don’t. I don’t think I ever will. Those accords were some bad fucking legislation.”

Jim stares at the ground and clears his throat. He knows that Sam doesn’t say that because of any reason other than the fact he doesn’t agree with the Accords, but for some reason Jim can’t help himself from letting it sting.

Of course, Sam notices that too. “Wait, no.” Sam interjects, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. You know that. I just...we’ve argued about this before.” A smile plays on Sam’s lips. Jim remembers.

Standing around Avengers Compound all day, arguing about the papers. He remembers how heated it got in the room, mostly from Sam and Jim alone. Tony and Steve had resigned themselves to moping around about the whole situation, but Jim was adamant that everyone needed to sign. 

He remembers the way Sam had asked him how long he was going to keep playing both sides. Who would have thought what kind of future was in store for everyone. 

“Do you?” Sam asks, scratching the back of his neck. “Wish that you hadn’t signed them, I mean.”

Jim exhales out of his nose, not sure if admitting it means anything. If he says it out loud, does it mean that he’s a coward, officially a traitor? He supposes he’s a traitor anyway, but he doesn’t want to be. 

Finally, he nods. “Sometimes.”

Sam purses his lips. “I still think the premise was bullshit,” Sam shakes his head. “But I think I can speak for everyone else in my situation and say that no one thought this outcome was preferable. Or that we didn’t need to make a change in the way we did things.”

That’s where this conversation ends. Jim can’t keep talking about, doesn’t want to say too much. He doesn’t know how he feels about this situation. What once seemed black and white is now increasingly more gray, impossible to navigate. Neither side is fair--which now strikes Jim as incredibly fucked up. 

“Sorry,” Jim says finally, rubbing a hand across his face. “I hate talking about this.”

Sam nods. “I think we all do.”

They end up crawling back to the couch, curling up underneath a blanket and listening to the rain outside, feeling each other’s heartbeats through their shirts. Jim tries not to think about his doubts anymore, but somehow it’s hard not to. He loves Tony, would give up the world for him. And he does agree that the amount of civilians that were dying in these battles was enough to give Jim nightmares. 

He just hadn’t expected to be heading full steam ahead to having feelings for someone who stands on the opposite side of the tracks. It’s a roadblock he doesn’t know how to navigate, how to rationalize. He doesn’t even have any inkling of an idea about where they’re going to end up. He doesn’t want to plan. He wants to listen to Sam’s heartbeat and forget.

*

“How do I look?” Tony asks, spinning around the empty conference room so Jim can get a better view of his suit. “Does this look say ‘I know exactly what I’m doing’?” 

Jim grins back at him. “I think it gives off a little bit of a ‘I like to buy expensive suits and I want you to know that’ vibe, personally.” He pauses. “You have nothing to be worried about, Tony. You’ve been doing a great job.”

Tony punches Jim in the shoulder. “Don’t think I don’t notice the fact you’re trying to sell yourself short. None of this would be possible without your dedication.” The sentence makes Jim’s stomach curl in on itself.

The ringing of the call echoes around the room, a feature that Tony could probably disable but doesn’t because he seems to like it. Tony waves his hand to answer, and the room is suddenly filled with transparent versions of the government officials that the Avengers have to work with. Sitting at the head of the table is Secretary Ross, his white mustache still fully visible even by hologram. 

“Good morning, Mr. Stark. Good morning, Colonel Rhodes. It’s good to see you both.” Secretary Ross greets them, shuffling through a stack of papers in front of him. “Let’s not waste time, shall we? How are known threats looking?”

Tony starts rattling off the information he’s been briefed with, amounting to hardly anything at all. Things have been relatively slow around the compound, a lack of high level threats in all cases. Of course, there are always lower level things, but Avengers are prevented from intervening in those situations now that the Accords are in place. Jim doesn’t mind that, either. Filing paperwork for each mission and getting it approved is often a process that ends up being weeks long. There’s too much chaos in the world for one team.

“I’m glad to hear things have been running smoothly on your end,” Secretary Ross says, jotting down some notes. “We’ve been very happy with the work you all have been exhibiting.”

“Well,” Tony smiles in Jim’s direction. “You can thank Colonel Rhodes for that one. He’s a superstar over here.”

“Right.” Secretary Ross removes his reading glasses, his seriousness unshaken by Tony’s charismatic demeanor. The other people in the call straighten in their seats. “I just wanted to touch base about Captain Rogers and the fugitives he’s harboring.”

Tony suddenly gets very serious, nodding with his jaw set. Jim wants to be anywhere but here, wants to excuse himself. He knows this conversation is something he has to have, something that’s been coming for awhile. 

“All attempts to reach Captain Rogers and anyone else suspected to be with him have been unsuccessful,” Tony replies. “If we do have any information, we will make sure to write a report right away and get to investigating.”

Secretary Ross nods. “It’s a shame that the car recovered in Manhattan didn’t lead to anything. This manhunt is exhausting, I’m sure you’d agree. All of us are waiting for the call so we can finally apprehend them right away.”

Jim wants to stay quiet, wants to let the conversation wrap up and return to his office so that he won’t be subjected to this any longer. But Secretary Ross’ comments leave a twist in Jim’s stomach, unpleasant and unrelenting.

“Apprehend them?” He speaks up, to Tony’s surprise. “I’m confused. I had always assumed that once Captain Rogers and his team were found we would get to negotiations to convince them to sign the Accords and rejoin the Avengers.”

Tony shoots a glare at Jim, only detectable to the two of them. He clears his throat. “Sorry, sir. I think we haven’t discussed fully what the consequences will be.”

“Well, they’re traitors.” Ross elaborates. “Specialized, enhanced traitors. Barnes is one story, of course. He will probably be imprisoned for life if he is found guilty of his crimes. As for Rogers, Romanoff, Maximoff, and Wilson...it’s hard to say. Scott Lang and Clint Barton surrendered to the law already, so we’ve just worked with house arrest. For the others...the blatant disregard of the law means that imprisonment is imminent, of course. It will depend on how compliant they are once detained if their sentencing is considered to be lighter.”

Jim is horrified, spiraling and cannot say a word. Secretary Ross just keeps talking.

“They’re not regular prisoners, can’t be placed in a State penitentiary in good faith. We have to consider the safety of other prisoners. We have high security prisons for this sort of thing.”

“What good will that do for anyone?” Jim interrupts, trying to hold himself from boiling over entirely. “Don’t you realize that we could use them back on this team? Don’t you realize that intentionally keeping them separated has real consequences on our national defense?”

“Colonel Rhodes, I’ll remind you that this country has a functioning legal system that exists to punish those who commit crimes. We cannot simply allow traitors to run free and we especially can’t let them get off without any sort of punishment.” 

“So we imprison them?”

“Do you have some sort of issue with the legality of this process?” Secretary Ross accuses, his eyes cold and calculated. He taps his pen on his desk, irritated. “Must I remind you what your signature means? What level your dedication should be at? Do you suddenly have doubts?”

Yes. Jim wants to say. Yes. I think we’ve gotten something wrong. I think our good intentions are turning into something ugly and something that is going to end badly. I think we work better together. 

“Sir,” Tony jumps in when Jim doesn’t immediately answer. “We believe in the mission. There’s a lot to sort through here, you have to understand. It’s hard knowing your friends are making the wrong decisions.”

This argument isn’t worth it. Not right now. Jim doesn’t need to let this situation make Tony look suspicious, and he can’t let anyone catch onto him. He can’t let that happen--the thought of Sam being discovered is too high of a price.

“Right,” Jim says, looking over at Tony. “Forgive me if I sound overly critical. It is hard.”

Secretary Ross eyes them, but lets it slide. There isn’t much to go over after that, just some paperwork technicalities. When the call finally ends, Tony glares at Jim.

“What the hell was that?”

Jim shakes his head angrily. “You’re okay with that? You’re okay with the treatment they’ll receive?”

“They need to be punished,” Tony counters, narrowing his eyes. “They’re breaking the law, they’re running from us. They’re stealing cars, probably doing vigilante work. They’re--Rhodes. They’re enhanced individuals. On the loose.”

“Steve and Wanda are! What about the rest of them? They’re people, Tony. They’re friends.”

Tony shakes his head. “They were friends.”

Jim is floored. “How can you say that? How? After everything we’ve gone through together? Knowing the things each of them have lived through? You can’t possibly be okay with putting people who have saved the world more than once into prison. We need them.”

Tony throws his hands up in the air. “We don’t need them! We’ve never needed them! I can think of a hundred new inventions to fill the need. I will if I have to. I can’t let what they did slide. I can’t!”

Jim is taken back. He shakes his head in disappointment. “So because you’re bitter, you’re willing to end their lives forever? Since when are you the vindictive type?”

“They were my friends too, don’t forget.” Tony snaps. “I’m apparently the only person with a moral compass that’s actually on track. Jesus, do you even hear yourself?”

Jim stands up from his chair, heading for the door. He half expects Tony to stop him, because they don’t usually argue. When they do, they don’t walk out or slam doors. Jim’s always been a communicator. 

He just can’t have this conversation. He can’t. There’s too much at stake, and he loves Tony too much to let this keep going. He’ll just say something he will regret. Before he leaves, he turns to look at Tony. He’s got his glasses on his head, his hand rubbing across his face.

“I lost them too, you know.” Jim says, quietly. “You don’t have to pretend you’re better off without them all the time. Not in front of me. I see through it.”

He turns the doorknob. Tony doesn’t say another word.

*

Jim doesn’t go to work the next day. Or the day after that. It’s not like they’re excruciatingly busy anymore, so he decides to take a few days off to cool down from his argument with Tony. He’s not really sure how he feels about the argument, even now, considering any factors that were influencing him before.

There’s nothing Tony could say or do that would ever make Jim stop loving him. The friendship they have is unconditional, without limit. That doesn’t mean he thinks Tony is being reasonable or that everything that’s happening isn’t beginning to tear him apart at the seams.

Late one night, he’s tracing lines on Sam’s chest while they lay in bed together. They aren’t talking, just listening to each other breathe in the darkness. An overwhelming desire to protect Sam from everything he hears about is changing the way he sees everything around him. He’s just afraid of what he’d have to give up. 

He doesn’t bring it up with Sam. They have enough to worry about. Instead, they spend hours in bed together and trying to make the best of being trapped in the apartment. Jim’s suggested to Sam that they try to fly from the roof again, but Sam is adamantly against it.

“Is there something wrong with them?” Jim asks him one morning, sitting at the kitchen table. “Do we need to tweak a few things?”

Sam shakes his head, drinking his coffee that makes Jim laugh every time he sees it. It’s essentially straight creamer. “They work incredibly smoothly. I just...it’s not like anyone could mistake me for anyone else when I’m just flying in the middle of Manhattan.”

Jim knows he’s right. If any of the people on the FBI’s most wanted list are recognizable, it’s the dude wearing clunky red goggles with a twelve foot wingspan. 

“What if we did something different?” He asks Sam, sizing him up. He doesn’t know what to do to make any of this better, but he thinks that maybe getting to breathe in more fresh air would be something. He wishes that somehow all the charges would be dropped, that Sam would be able to walk outside on the street with Apollo and not have to answer to anyone. 

“Meaning?” Sam replies, both of his hands wrapped around his coffee mug. It’s one that Jim’s sister had gotten him a few years back for his birthday, a joke about how engineers can’t spell on it. I’m an enginere engenere engeneer I’m good with math.

Jim stands from his spot at the bar, looking out through the drawn curtains at the people below. They walk with their eyes ahead, seeing nothing but their deadlines and phone screens. Jim turns to look at Sam again, smiling coyly.

*

They don’t fly, at Sam’s request. Instead, once the night is in full swing, they sneak up to the roof with chinese takeout to feel the cool New York air on their skin. Under Jim’s arm is a bottle of champagne, something to warm them up. 

Sam worries a little about the safety of the whole thing, but Jim knows nobody else in the building has access to the rooftop. There aren’t any lights around them, so they are essentially blanketed by darkness. It doesn’t take much to ease Sam’s mind. Before they know it, they are laying on their backs, passing the bottle back and forth.

“I’m sorry we can’t leave this building,” Sam says suddenly, as if it’s his fault. “I know you’d rather do this somewhere else.”

Jim shakes his head, sitting up. “Of course not. Seriously. How often do you think I hang out on the roof of my apartment building?”

 

Sam shrugs, his smile creeping all the way up to his eyes. “I don’t know...you seem to know the place pretty well....” Jim elbows Sam’s ribs, chuckling. He reaches forward and presses his fingers into the side of Sam’s jaw, leaning forward to kiss him gently.

Sam lets him do it, presses back with an equal force, enjoying the moment. Jim isn’t sure if the dizziness he’s feeling is because of how thin the air is, or because he can smell his own fabric softener on Sam’s clothes and he loves it. 

When they finally break apart, Jim kisses Sam’s cheek for good measure and shakes his head. “I never really spent much time at my apartment before. I was always working too much.”

Sam nods in understanding. “I know the feeling. I think we share workaholic habits.” He takes a swig of the champagne, shrugging.

Jim looks over at him, his thick eyelashes and beard. Sam is looking off into the skyline, his eyes searching the horizon. “When I was honorably discharged,” He clears his throat, not meeting Jim’s eyes. “That’s all I really did.”

Jim takes Sam’s hand, but doesn’t say anything. He waits. Sam looks over at him, smiling thoughtfully. “Did you ever meet him?”

 

“Who?”

“Riley.” The name rolls off Sam’s tongue like rust, something he hasn’t said in so long it feels strange coming out of his mouth. “Riley Carmichael? He was also a part of the EXO-7 missions with me.”

Jim knows who Riley is to Sam, knows what happened to him without having to ask. He racks his mind for Riley’s face in his own memory. After a moment, he’s able to recall his face.

“We met briefly once, I believe.” Jim remembers him now. “He had blond hair, right? Brown eyes? He was sort of quiet.” Sam is now hanging on to every word that is coming out of Jim’s mouth, nodding furiously.

“That’s him.” Jim squeezes Sam’s hand. Sam smiles back at him and looks up at the sky above them, devoid of stars. “Have I ever told you about him?”

Jim shakes his head. Sam smiles to himself. 

“When we first met, we couldn’t stand each other. He was all...I don’t know. He was just so hard to talk to. He was quiet and short with me all the time, and we were always butting heads about the mission. I never thought we would be able to work together.”

“So what happened?”

Sam laughs a little. “Once we were in the sky, we had to rely on each other at all times. Being that dependant on someone else changes you, I guess. He trusted me with everything he had in him. I did too. It was how we operated.” Sam looks sad when he says it. 

Jim lets him breathe it out a little, grounds him with his touch. “And after that?”

 

“We just...flipped a switch. Spending that much time together bonded us together like nothing else could have. I noticed how good he was. He was good, brave, cared about other above all else. He would have sacrificed anything to do what was right.”

“He sounds like an amazing man.” Jim purses his lips. He wants to tell Sam he’s sorry, but he doesn’t feel like it’s appropriate. Sam brushes his fingers on Jim’s temple.

“You remind me of him in that way.” The words make Jim’s skin heat up, and for a moment he thinks he might cry. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to express his gratitude to Sam for saying something so personal. 

“Thank you.” He says to Sam instead, firmly. Sam waits a moment before pressing in to kiss him again, as gentle as he can.

“I think we might be crazy.” Sam whispers into the dark, resting a hand on the side of Jim’s face.

“I know we’re crazy. That’s okay.” Jim replies before he lets his lips wander down Sam’s neck. Sam lets him go.

*

Jim wakes up the next morning to someone knocking on his door. He jolts at the sound, waking Sam in the process, who is curled around him protectively. Jim waits for the knocking to stop, wants to drift back to sleep.

The knocking doesn’t stop.

“Who the fuck is here before noon?” Jim grumbles, rolling out of bed. He doesn’t bother with the braces, instead opting for the wheelchair in his bedroom. Sam doesn’t say much, just watching Jim move around the bedroom in the watery morning light. The knocking continues.

“I’m coming, Jesus!” Jim calls to them, prompting the knocking to quiet down. Jim enters the other room, making sure to close the bedroom door tightly behind him. When he finally opens the door, he’s shocked to see Tony standing there.

He’s dressed casually, smiling nervously. “Hey.”

Jim sighs. “What are you doing here?”

Tony shrugs. “Can’t a man visit his best friend on a whim? I was in the neighborhood.”

Jim looks at him sharper, waiting for something serious. “Tony.”

Tony sighs. “I came to apologize.”

There’s a pang in Jim’s chest, because he knows that their argument has probably been weighing on Tony for days. They don’t ignore each other ever, never let an argument go unresolved like they have. Jim knows it’s his fault.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Tony, look...you shouldn’t have to apologize. I was out of line. Especially with Ross right there, and I shouldn’t have walked out on you afterward. I’m sorry. I’ve been really out of sorts lately.”

“Hey, well…” Tony smiles a little, crooked. “I’m just glad we’re okay. I hate feeling like we are angry with each other.”

Jim smiles, a real crinkled smile that meets at the corners of his eyes. He hates the feeling of being out of sync with Tony, despite another part of him leaning away from everything he’s built here. He knows now that the Accords are wrong. That doesn’t mean everything that comes with the Accords is wrong too.

“Listen,” Tony says, scratching the back of his neck. “Can we just have a day? You know? No responsibilities, no meetings, no politics. Let’s just...drink beer and watch tv or something.”

A chill runs down Jim’s spine, and he thinks suddenly about Sam asleep in the bedroom, curled up under the covers wearing Jim’s clothes and snoring. He thinks about Tony sitting a room over, how easily he could discover the secret Jim has been struggling so hard to keep for the past few months. A secret he’s not ready to tell anyone about.

“Today isn’t a good day,” Jim replies, racking his mind for any excuse he could possibly use. “I’m driving upstate today to see my sister. I was actually just about to get going.”

Tony purses his lips, and Jim holds his breath. It’s not the worst excuse he’s ever used before, but Jim knows that Tony’s not easy to trick. Jim can’t remember if Beth told Tony she was moving to Florida last summer when she visited, or if Jim’s mentioned it to him since then.

“Well, can’t keep you from that,” Tony replies finally, smiling and squeezing Jim’s shoulder. “We can hang out another time. I’m just glad we cleared everything up.”

Jim forces a smile on his face, prays and hopes Tony can’t hear how fast his heart is beating. “Me too.”

Tony’s phone starts ringing in his pocket, and it takes him a moment to realize that the sound is coming from him. Once he comes back to it, he shakes his head. “Might as well, huh?” He says before taking the call. “Hey Pepper.”

Jim motions for Tony to go, waving. Tony mouths Thank you before turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction, hopefully to enjoy this day away from the pressures of being Tony fucking Stark. Jim’s not sure how he was able to worm himself out of that, but he isn’t filled with euphoria for getting away with it. 

He hates lying to Tony. That will probably never change.

When Jim returns to the bedroom, Sam isn’t asleep anymore. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, in different clothes than the ones he slept in. He looks over his shoulder at Jim in the doorway when he hears it creak open, his face flat and solemn.

“Who was at the door?” Sam asks, his back still facing Jim. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jim tries, but Sam already knows. “Listen, you know he can’t-”

“I hate that.” Sam replies, finally standing to face Jim. There’s still so much room in between them, cold and empty. “You could have invited him in. Or gone out together. I don’t need constant company, Jim. I hate feeling like I’m weighing you down.”

Jim shakes his head, taking a few steps forward. “You aren’t...it was my decision. Mine. I didn’t want to see him.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Sam shakes his head, his voice controlled. He’s younger than Jim, looks like it too--especially in the eyes. But the way he talks and reasons with himself, sometimes he feels much older. “I know you miss him. I can see it from here.”

He’s right. Jim can’t counter him, doesn’t need another person in his life that he’s lying to. Instead, he says, “I just feel like I need to protect you from this.”

Sam shakes his head, closes the distance between them so that they’re inches apart. He’s not visibly angry, but instead he looks sad. Disappointed. “You can’t push people you love away. They’re good for you.”

When he says it, Jim hears something else underneath. They’re good for you becomes something else, almost an accusation. He’s trying his best here, and somehow Sam asking Jim to consider his own independence feels like a step back.

“What about you?” Jim says, shaking his head. “Look at Steve and Nat. They don’t want you to leave?”

Sam presses his lips together, and for the first time he lets the brave face fall. He clenches his jaw, and doesn’t respond for a moment. They stand in the silence, and Sam finally admits it. “I haven’t been calling them.”

“You haven’t?” Jim can’t contain the surprise. 

“No, I haven’t. It’s gotten away from me. I’ll admit it.” Sam sighs, rubs a hand across his face. “It’s overwhelming.”

“You can’t get on my ass about Tony when you’ve been lying to me about this for weeks,” Jim says, trying to hold back the venom in his words. “We’re both making sacrifices to be here. If you’ve been making the same decisions as me, then neither of us have a right to say anything.”

That’s the end of it. Sam doesn’t argue back, and Jim almost regrets it. Instead, he turns around, and leaves Sam to himself in the bedroom, letting the door close behind him. 

*

The apartment isn’t big enough for two people to avoid each other. They settle on not speaking, which is harder than he expects. Apollo doesn’t help with his usual hyperactive loving behavior. It’s a stark contrast. 

“Listen,” Sam says out loud, setting his book down. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Jim thinks about the night before, the roof. He thinks about the feeling of Sam’s hand pressed to the side of his face. Sam is sitting on the couch, reading some book he’s fished from Jim’s dusty shelf. It’s like the flick of a light. 

He doesn’t want Sam to leave. But this isn’t going to work if they close themselves off.

Jim makes his way to the chair Sam is sitting in, and wedges himself on the armrest. “It’s not your fault. I think we’ve both been out of touch.”

“I have to call them.” Sam accepts. Jim reaches out, holds his hand. “I know I do. I miss them. You understand that?”

 

“Yeah,” Jim looks at their hands, intertwined. Two sides coming together. “I think we’re gonna have to figure this out.”

*

It only takes Jim a few minutes to get Tony on the phone. He asks Tony if he wants to get drinks the next day, and when Tony asks about his sister’s house Jim just tells him that he’s going to come home before then. Tony seems happy about it, doesn’t ask questions. The call only lasts about ten minutes, and by the time it’s over, Jim feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest.

Sam’s call lasts much longer. He’s locked the bedroom door, and inside Jim can’t hear much besides Sam’s voice, low and serious. Jim decides whatever is happening isn’t his business, and he lets them speak. They’re on the phone for nearly an hour before Jim hears the door unlock. Sam doesn’t come outside, but it’s an indicator that Jim can come inside whenever he feels like it.

Jim can hear Sam moving, but he waits. When nothing happens, he finally goes inside the bedroom. Sam is standing in front of an open duffle bag on the bed. Jim waits. 

“They need me.” Sam informs him, shaking his head. “They’re close to breaking a threat, and they need me. I’m sorry.”

Jim tries to hide the ice running through his veins. “If they need you, they need you.”

Sam nods, pursing his lips. “It shouldn’t take long, anyway. Maybe a few days. I told them that I liked being here with you.”

Jim raises his eyebrows. “You did?”

Sam shrugs. “They know me too well. They would have figured it out either way.”

Jim lets a small smile creep onto his face. “You are sort of obvious.”

“Well, I would hope so.” Sam winks at him, and then retrieves the bag at the top of Jim’s closet containing his retracted wings. He stares at them for only a moment. “We’ll figure it out. What we’re going to do next.”

Jim knows he’s talking about him, not the mission.

“Okay.”

Sam packs everything up and changes into his armor in only ten minutes. Jim has always thought that the red goggles he wears make him look funny, but he’s started to think of them as endearing. Sam asks to take off from the roof, since it’s open and flat. Jim decides to go with him.

The walk up the set of stairs is what sets Jim’s heart to beating, his worries suddenly flowing through him at once. What happens now? What happens when Steve and Natasha know? What happens if Sam gets hurt, if he’s caught?

When the door to the roof opens, they’re hit in the face with a gust of wind. Just 24 hours earlier, they had laid here and pressed themselves together, in denial from the world around them. Jim’s heart aches for the delusion they’ve left behind, knowing it’s gone but hoping that the world will work its way out.

Sam turns to face Jim. “I promise I’ll be back. Okay? I’ll be back.”

“I know you will,” Jim replies, nodding. “I trust you.”

Sam kisses him, and Jim can taste the promise on his lips. He knows the Sam’s coming back, even if he has to tear hell apart to get there. The uncertainty scares them both, but trust is all they have left. In a world where you are anything but regular, love has to find its way around. 

“Five days.” Sam says to him once he pulls back, holding up five fingers. “If you don’t hear from me any longer than five days, that’s when you can worry. As long as I’m safe, I’ll be home by then. I swear.”

“Five days.” Jim repeats. Sam nods. It’s now he realizes how hard he’s gripping Sam’s hand, how much he wants him to stay but also how much he knows he needs to go. So he lets go. And Sam steps back.

After a moment, he’s gone, his wings disappearing into the night.

*

The days pass exactly as Jim expects them to: laboriously and long. The night Sam leaves, Jim finds himself lying awake in bed, unable to forget how it felt to have someone else beside him, so alive and vibrant. 

He doesn’t sleep much.

Still, he’s not one to wallow in his own anxieties. So he tries to get out. He walks Apollo in new places, in Central Park and beside the river. Sometimes they walk for extended periods of time, enjoying the fresh air and charming way New Yorkers put on their faces of unfriendliness. For the first time in weeks, Jim calls Tony and asks if they’re still on to hang out.

“Of course,” He says on the other end. “I’ll have to wrap some stuff up at work, but yeah. I’ll see you later.”

Going out isn’t something Jim and Tony do much at all, even before Sam. They’re both too recognizable to sit unbothered in a bar full of people, especially surrounded by people without much judgement after they’ve taken shots.

Tonight, they decide it’s worth it. 

“You know,” Tony says, once they’ve gotten their beers and an order of onion rings. “I know there has to be some reason you’ve been so distant the past few weeks.”

Jim stares into his eyes, reading him. He knows Tony well enough to know he isn’t talking about Sam, isn’t accusing him of treason. If Tony knew, it wouldn’t be long before Jim picked up on it. “What’s the hypothesis?”

“Are you dating someone?” Tony asks, sly smile spreading across his face, one of his eyebrows raised. “You have to be dating someone. Which leads to my second question: who is he, and why don’t I know about any of this shit?”

Jim rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. “Fuck you. I’m not dating anybody.” It isn’t even a lie, because it’s not like he and Sam ever put a label on whatever was happening. Which sounds so...college gay scene. He knows that. But it eases his mind.

Tony nods into it, looking like he’s thinking about it. “Right. Okay, I believe you. So what? You’re talking to someone? I know I’m right.”

Now that is something Jim doesn’t have any business denying. So he shrugs. Which of course sends Tony snickering, and Jim is ready to disappear in his seat. Tony opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a man in a flannel and jeans stumbles up to Tony.

“Mr. Stark,” He slurs, smiling. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve been doing for us. I’ve never trusted Captain America since the beginning, and I think that-”

Jim uses this as an excuse to get himself something stronger to drink, knowing he’s going to have to spend at least a portion of his night evading Tony’s questions about his love life. Not that he’d ever expect the truth about it all. 

He walks up to the bar, asking the bartender for something with a little more kick to it, and as he waits, he can see another guy sitting a few seats down, sneaking glances at Jim when he knows he’s looking. It makes Jim’s heart start beating, because he knows this type of flirting, has used it more times than he can count. It’s different than being recognized by civilians, warmer and friendlier. 

Jim avoids eye contact, waits for his drink. He’s not interested. He thinks about the way Sam would dance in the kitchen when he would cook dinner, the way he’d use spoons and whisks as microphones while he sang along to his favorite songs.

He pays for his drink and returns to Tony, who is now posing for a selfie with Wrangler jeans. When the guy finally stumbles off in the other direction, Tony doesn’t look phased in the slightest. He loves the attention, loves talking to people. Jim actually admires that about him, his willingness to talk to anybody who approaches him. Somehow, he doesn’t ever feel too out of touch.

“Anyway,” Tony says, clearing his throat. “What were we talking about?”

Jim groans. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Tony puts his hands in their air, mocking confusion. “Me and Miss Potts?”

Jim snorts and takes a sip of whatever the bartender whipped up. He nearly spits it back up. “Who else?”

Tony smiles a little to himself, shrugging. Jim recognizes the look on his face, a look reserved only for Pepper. Jim doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone love someone like that, so unselfishly and open. “You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah,” Jim agrees, nodding. “I do. So that leads to my next question...when are you going to do something more permanent about that?”

Tony shakes his head. “She’s got me on her leash, man. You know that. All she has to do is tell me when and I’ll be ringing every tabloid in America with news of our upcoming nuptials.” He smiles to himself, and Jim can’t help but notice how it makes him look so much younger. 

It makes his heart pang a little. Maybe to have some sort of newborn hope of some sort of future. 

“Well,” Jim shakes his head finally. “I’m just waiting for the ‘best man’ title, Stark. Don’t forget it.”

“Couldn’t do anything of the sort.”

*

That night, when Jim finally gets home, he’s drunk and exhausted. Tony offers to walk him up to his apartment, but he assures him he’s fine. As he leans against the wall of the elevator, he mentally ticks off another day he’s waited for Sam, number three.

He unlocks the door to his apartment, and when he walks in, he half expects the television to be on and for Sam to be in the room. Instead, the lights are off and the room is cold and empty. Apollo greets him at the door, all happy barks and wagging tail. After a moment, Jim makes his way to the empty living room, and lets himself fall onto the couch.

*

On the fourth day of Sam being gone, Jim is back at work. Tony had let him take a week off following their argument, explaining he thought Jim was overworked anyway. By the time the day comes, Jim can’t help himself from anxiously waiting to see if Sam is knocking on the door yet. He’d said that five days was the max, but he could come back any day now. 

He spends the day back to his old routine, paperwork and making multiple calls a day to update the long line of people that it takes to get things under approval. The Avengers are being used much less nowadays, as the UN has been trying to keep most threats to their own forces, specially trained operatives that aren’t Tony, Jim, and Vision. It’s not much of team, and everyone knows that.

Tony had invited Jim that morning to stop by Pepper’s office so that they could have lunch together, but by the time he arrives, Pepper is still finishing a meeting and Tony is sitting alone in her office, on a phone call. Jim cracks open the door, earning a silent wave from Tony in return. 

“Well,” Tony says into the phone, scratching the side of his face. “Just keep me updated. I know they’re pretty good at laying low. If you have any more updates, let me know.”

Jim’s blood runs cold. He knows who Tony’s talking about, but he doesn’t want to ask. He tries to look casual as he sits down beside Tony, pretends like he’s not eavesdropping on the conversation. Of course, that’s when Tony hangs up.

“Hey, man!” Tony says when he’s finished, leaning back in his chair. “Where do you wanna order lunch from? Are you feeling chinese food? Maybe sandwiches?”

Jim searches his face. He’s so laid back. Instead, he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who were you talking to?”

“Operatives,” Tony replies, nonchalantly. “Might have some leads on Rogers, I guess. They spotted something a few days ago.”

Spotted something. Sam. Probably after he left Jim’s apartment in the dark of the night, thinking he was safe and that no one was watching. How could they have thought no one would have caught him, flying above the skyline like that? Who else could it be? Jim should never have suggested they call Steve and Natasha, selfish as it is. He thinks about Sam in that prison again, tries not to break down. No one deserves that, except maybe the government asshats that got them here in the first place. 

“You okay?” Tony questions, his voice breaking through the storm of thoughts all across Jim’s brain. “It’s just a lead. I don’t want to get too excited yet.” 

Jim nods, trying to cover his worries. “Yeah, of course. Let’s hope you hear something.”

Pepper walks into the office, her strawberry blonde hair thrown over her shoulder effortlessly. She’s a sunrise in the dark room, her smile lighting Tony up like nothing else can. She makes her way over to them both, babbling as she presses a kiss into both of their cheeks.

“Sorry guys,” She says, setting her laptop down on the desk. “Shareholder meetings don’t normally go on for that long. What do we want for lunch?”

Tony starts to list of places they will deliver, and Jim focuses on the New York skyline through Pepper’s floor to ceiling office windows. He hopes if he watches carefully enough, they’ll be an outline of wings on the horizon.

*

Jim wakes up on day five with a pit in his stomach. When he feels the space in the bed next to him, it’s cold and empty. 

He pulls himself out of bed, making himself a cup of coffee and takes some breakfast on the road. Going to work means distraction, though he’s not sure how much he’s going to get done. He knows Sam could come home today, but Sam knows where the spare key is and Jim knows that if anything, god forbid, happened to him...skipping on his meeting today would look suspicious.

He’s supposed to talk with Ross to touch base today, which is something Tony normally does but has been allocated to Jim this time. Jim thinks it might actually be a good thing to speak with him today, because then he’ll hear for himself any news on Sam and the rest of their friends. 

So, when he arrives at work, he makes sure to get everything ready for his meeting. He finds an empty conference room and sets himself up to the server they’re going to be speaking on. He’s even dressed nicely today, a button up and slacks replacing his usual jeans and t-shirt. He needs to keep himself under control this time. He can’t have this ruined by his emotions. Ross needs to trust him.

Ross is supposed to call promptly at 9 o’clock. Jim waits. And it comes and goes. He tries not to worry much at first, reasoning with himself that Ross may be busy and that the call is just being postponed. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic. Maybe there are technical difficulties. 

He keeps waiting. Fifteen minutes go by. Still nothing. Twenty turns into thirty. Jim is trying not to worry, but he’s already on edge. Today is day five. Sam is likely going to be trying to get back to Jim’s today, maybe has already tried to get into his apartment. And Jim isn't home. Someone could have seen him.

Jim calls Tony. Tony, of course, answers after the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounds frantic. “Rhodey, what’s going on? Do you know something?”

 

It feels like it’s confirming Jim’s fears. “What do you mean? I was calling because I never got a call from Ross.”

Tony sighs on the other end. “No, he...they think they have actual coordinates on Rogers--they’re sending out an entire team to arrest him. That’s all I know. I’m sorry--I thought you were calling because you knew something. I can keep you updated, but--”

“Yes.” Jim interrupts, trying to keep his voice steady. “Please call me when you hear anything.”

When he hangs up, he tries not to panic. He runs his hands over his face, afraid to react in any way. He’s afraid someone’s been watching them all along, and at this point he doesn’t care if he goes to jail. He broke the law. He harboured Sam. And he would do it again. He would do it in a heartbeat over and over again. He believes in the mission of the accords, he believes in Tony, but he also believes that they’ve gotten something wrong.

*

Tony does not call again until late that evening, when nightfall has already come. Jim is still at the compound, waiting. He’s not done much work today, hasn’t been able to focus. He feels so guilty, so scared.

“They won’t tell me anything,” Tony says when Jim answers the phone, and he can hear the frustration in his voice. “They won’t tell me if they’ve found them, or anything. I don’t even know if the coordinates they had were legitimate.”

Jim feels like someone has torn out his heart. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know if I want them to find them,” Tony says on the other end, and Jim hears him exhale. “I don’t know if I’m ready to face that.”

 

A million emotions hit Jim at once. Anger, because Tony has been a major proponent of this search and is now admitting he doesn’t want it to prevail. Sadness, because Tony lost friends too. Guilt, because Jim’s existence here as they speak makes him complicit in all of this.

He doesn’t need to say that to Tony. Instead, he replies, “Me either.”

*

They hear nothing for the next week. Nothing from either side, Ross or Sam. Tony asks every day, and so does Jim, but they’re told that the information is classified right now. When they say it to Tony, he throws his arms in the air.

“Bullshit. We’re cleared to do classified missions with aliens and highly advanced threats, but we aren’t cleared to know where the hell our former teammates might be at this moment? If they’re imprisoned, I need to know, because--”

Ross stops Tony. He always stops him. He never wants to hear it. Jim usually just lets Tony fight this futile battle, waits for the call to end the same way every time. Where Tony yells and argues with Ross even after it’s all over. Jim feels like he can’t breathe fully anymore. There’s a guilt leftover: what if they found Sam when he was trying to get back into Jim’s apartment? Is that why they haven’t told them if they’ve been captured yet? Are they working on how they’re going to charge Tony and Jim? He doesn’t want them to rope Tony into this.

It’s day eleven, and Jim just wants to tell Sam he’s sorry. 

The day goes the same way every other day has gone. They hear nothing, and Tony can’t contain himself and ends up overworking to distract himself. Jim feels some sort of numbness about all of this. He doesn’t think he’s going to cry or throw up, but he just feels empty. Probably a product of guilt and a broken heart. 

The sun sets. Jim goes home. 

He greets the doorman, he takes the elevator to his apartment, he stands outside his door and waits before he unlocks it. He’s not sure why. It’s futile. This is his life now. He wonders how long he will be uncertain like this. For the first time, he feels like he wants to cry.

He unlocks the door. He nearly falls to his knees at the sight inside. There he stands, his broad shoulders and his wings retracted into the jetpack he’s wearing. Jim really wants to cry when he sees him. He stands in the open doorway for a millisecond, then gingerly steps inside and closes the door. He takes great care not to slam it or react suspiciously. 

As soon as they’re alone in the dark apartment, they embrace. Now Jim is really shedding tears, but not like Sam is. Sam is shaking as he cradles Jim against his armored chest. He just keeps saying sorry over and over again. Jim doesn’t want him to apologize. He pulls away from him, cradles his face in his hands. It’s Sam. He’s got a few bruises on his face, and a healing black eye, but he’s here.

“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts again. “I told you five days. I know I probably worried you to hell and back. I’m so sorry.”

Jim kisses him, because he’s here and because he’s wished for the past eleven days that he could do this. When he pulls away, he shakes his head. “I was scared shitless.”

Sam lets out a wet exhale. “I tried to come back, but Natasha realized the area was being highly surveyed. She left some false leads and tried to lure them away. It took a long time. God, it took too long. I’m sorry.”

So that’s what they’d seen, what they refused to tell Tony and Jim. It makes him furious for a moment, that he’d been so worried about a false lead. That Tony was probably still worrying. Jim takes Sam’s hand.

“When did you last sleep?” Jim asks Sam. Sam shrugs. Jim cups the side of his face.

“You need rest.” Jim purses his lips. “We need rest.”

Sam nods. So they both strip down and when they finally settle together in bed, Jim presses his nose to the back of Sam’s neck. There’s a heaviness in the air that they’re ignoring, and Jim lets himself try and ignore it right now. Sam breathes deeply when Jim presses himself closer. It’s like a prayer.

*

When they wake up the next morning, Sam doesn’t get out of bed and make breakfast like he normally does. They lay under the covers, letting the morning light bathe them. Jim doesn’t say anything. Neither does Sam. They are thinking. Jim knows it’s the same thing. 

Sam rolls over so they’re facing each other, so close their noses are nearly touching. He kisses Jim, and Jim lets him. It’s so gentle. So fragile. Jim loves it. He knows what’s coming, so he relishes the touch. He tries to capture it in his mind.

“This isn’t normal.” Sam says, and he looks like a kicked puppy. Jim wants to comfort him, but he knows. He knows all too well.

“I know.” He closes his eyes. He wants to selfishly keep going, keep living this life they’ve been living. But he knows what they have to do. “It’s not ever going to be normal, is it?”

 

Sam presses his lips together. “I don’t think so. At least, not right now.”

Jim intertwines their fingers. He presses his forehead to Sam’s. “We can’t live like this.”

Sam sniffles. Something about all this feels like a punch in the gut, but also perfectly right. It’s what they’ve been hurtling towards since Sam placed that bug in the first place. 

“I hate this.” Sam admits, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “Of course this happens after we’re not legally allowed to even speak to each other.”

“Ever read Romeo and Juliet?” Jim tries, and Sam laughs in response. He furrows his eyebrows.

“Am I Juliet? I feel like I’m Juliet.” 

Jim rolls his eyes. “Nah. You’re Romeo, since you’re exiled. I get to be Juliet.” 

They don’t say anything after that for a long time. Jim closes his eyes and curls into Sam’s chest. Sam rests his chin on top of Jim’s head, and they lay there without words for what feels like hours. It’s probably shorter than that. But there’s nothing else left to say. This is the world they live in, a world they both chose. It’s just not the world that that they expected when they made their respective decisions. 

Jim doesn’t know if he regrets signing the papers, or not fighting harder to keep them all together. It’s not clear yet, maybe it never will be. 

What finally gets Sam up is when he says, “I’m going to call Steve and Nat.” Jim lets him untangle himself and get up from the creaky mattress so he can make the call.

Jim rolls onto his back. He listens to Sam on the phone. It’s not a long call. Sam hangs up and doesn’t come back right away. Jim hears him crying. It makes him want to cry. He’s had shitty breakups before, but he’s never ended things when neither person wanted it. It sucks ass. He can hear Apollo start barking. Sam is talking to him. Jim wishes it could just be Sam and Apollo forever.

Jim gets his leg braces on, makes his way into the kitchen. Sam is gathering up his gear. He doesn’t have much, especially clothes. Jim retreats back into the bedroom, surveying his own closet. Hanging on a hanger is one of his MIT sweatshirts, one that Sam had claimed as his since he’d arrived here. When Jim comes back, he hands it off to Sam.

“Take it.” He offers, and Sam takes it from him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, though he’s already pulling it over his head. “You won’t miss it? It’s...I don’t know. Memorabilia.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I’m going to miss the person wearing it. I don’t care about the clothes.”

Sam kisses him again, long and lingering. Jim knows it’s their last kiss, so he hangs onto it as long as he possibly can. Sam’s fingers come up to the back of Jim’s neck, pulling him closer. Sam’s stubble scratches and burns Jim’s face, and he just wants to make this moment last forever. He never wants Sam to walk out that door. Never wants him to walk away again. It’s not realistic, but it’s a wild and crazy dream. 

The kiss has to end. It always does. 

Sam tells Jim that he’s not going to be flying out of here, since it’s broad daylight and the risk is too high. Natasha is coming to get him, and they wait in silence. When an unsuspecting car pulls up at the front of the building, floors below them, Sam recognizes the car. 

They embrace.

“Do you want me to walk you down?” Jim offers. Sam shakes his head.

“No. It will look suspicious. If I go alone it gives me a better chance of not being noticed.” He shakes his head. Jim presses his hand into Sam’s cheek one last time. “Maybe I’ll put another bug in your lamp, Rhodes.”

Jim laughs out loud. “Great idea. I’ll figure it out right away.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You give me no credit.”

“No credit is due.” Jim leans forward and presses a kiss to Sam’s temple. “I’m going to miss your face around here.”

Sam nods. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence. This is it. Sam picks up his stuff, throwing his duffle filled with incriminating evidence over his shoulder like a gym bag. He walks out into the hallway and towards the elevator, and Jim thinks it’s done. But he looks over his shoulder one last time.

“I’ll find a way,” His voice is quiet and hushed, so Jim’s neighbors don’t hear him. “To let you know I’m safe. Promise.”

Jim smiles. Sam gets into the elevator.

*

Sam leaves, and Jim stays. And it doesn’t return to normal overnight. Really, how can it?

Sam leaves, and Jim spends the next few days on the pull out couch. He doesn’t get out often, except for physical therapy appointments because he knows how important they are and there’s nothing that will keep him from them. 

But there is a permanent emptiness in Jim’s apartment. It’s strange.

Sam leaves, and Jim is still trying to find his way around his absence. So many things in this place have memories tied to him, and it's not as painful as it is strange. Maybe that’s a good thing. He wishes he could spill this to his therapist, but it’s not something he’ll speak to anyone else. 

The seasons change. The winter is cold and dark and Jim hates it. Which is saying something, because he’s always loved the cold. Tony picks up on Jim’s hatred for the weather. He hates it too. They go away to Hawaii for a few weeks. 

Sam leaves, and Jim finds himself going out more. Tony doesn’t know, but it’s like he does. And Jim is so glad that he’s got Tony. It reminds him of the conversation he’d had with Sam, at the beginning of everything, when he’d spoken with so much love about Natasha and Steve. He hopes that Sam’s content. He thinks that if Sam feels about Nat and Steve like Jim does about Tony, he’s probably pretty happy.

Sam leaves, and Jim slowly finds himself being happy again. He doesn’t return to how things were before it happened, but he sees his family more and works less. He takes off time to visit his family for his Mom’s birthday. He sees his nieces and nephews, and tells them stories of his escapades as an Avenger. 

Sam leaves, and Jim still misses him. He still waits for Sam’s message to drop, telling Jim he’s safe. And he waits, but he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. A phone call? An email? He’s not sure. Not to mention how long it will take. He doesn’t put much of a time restraint on Sam. He knows now that he will do something when he can.

He does. It’s just entirely unexpected.

Jim’s at home on a Saturday, getting ready to take Apollo out on a walk. He hears a knock on his door. Of course, it’s pretty unusual he has visitors, but never say never. So he makes his way to the front door and when he opens it, standing in front of him is Pepper Potts.

She’s dressed in a white pant suit, stylish but still professional. In her hands, she’s holding a small potted plant. Jim takes a second, but he recognizes it. He raises his eyebrows, then looks at Pepper.

“Come on in.”

*

“Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” Jim asks Pepper, but she shakes her head. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, and Jim wonders what she’s going to say. He makes his way over to her, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know much,” Pepper shrugs. “In fact--I don’t really know much else except for the fact this showed up on my desk yesterday and it was addressed to you.”

Jim stares at the small plant, just blooming. It’s the same exact one Sam had broken the first day he’d shown up on Jim’s balcony, the same one he’d promised he would replace. And this is Sam’s message. He’s safe.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Pepper says to fill the silence, and Jim realizes he hasn’t really said much. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to tell her. But he thinks that he should tell her and Tony. He still needs to decide on it.

“I will.” Jim promises her. He means it. Maybe not now, but he will. “Thanks for bringing this. It means a lot.”

“Of course.” Pepper presses her lips together, then brushes the petals of the flowers on the plant in front of them. “I don’t really know the significance of this, but whatever it is, I think it’s special.”

Jim smiles, nodding. Pepper rests her hand on top of Jim’s. 

“Tony always gets me lillies.” She smiles at the thought. The ring that Tony finally gave her is hit just right by every single ray of sun. “Couldn’t tell you how long it took him to start giving them to me, though. It was years of stuff that I pretended to like here and there. It took him time to grow into loving me.”

Jim wonders where she’s going with this. Pepper shakes her head.

“What I’m trying to say--listen. Things between us have never been perfect. It’s never been easy. But it works out.”

Jim raises an eyebrow at her. He’s touched by her words, though still a little lost on how much she knows. “Tell me again about how you don’t know anything.” Pepper laughs in response, rolling her eyes.

“Okay--the plant had a name on it. That’s it. That’s all I know.” She puts her hands up in surrender. Jim knows Pepper will take this information to the grave if she has to, won’t tell anybody. Even Tony. Though, Jim thinks he’ll tell Tony.

“Thank you.” Jim replies, and he smiles at the plant. He thinks about Pepper’s advice, about things working out. Sam left, but here is this potted plant and somehow it means something else. Maybe a sign from the heavens. It will work out.

Jim believes it, for the very first time.

*

Jim wakes up alone in his bed. The sun is streaming through his curtains, illuminating the room and washing it a pale white. Apollo stretches himself out at the end of the bed, and Jim takes his time under the covers. It’s a Saturday, and Jim has no plans to do anything but sleep.

Tony calls him halfway through breakfast, a FaceTime call that features Pepper and Happy driving the car they’re in. Tony asks Jim if he’d want to join them for lunch after they walk in the park together. Jim agrees, since he’s not seen either of them in a few days.

The rest of the morning is quiet and slow. He responds to emails like he normally does to pass the time. He flips on the news, listening to reporters talk about stock prices and not much else. There’s a few political segments, but for the most part it’s a slow news day.

Until it’s not.

The channel switches gears, and they’re reporting breaking news: something Jim is only first hearing about. In front of his eyes, he sees a circular ship descending on New York, and he’s glued to the tv. He’s trying to call Tony, but no answer. Nothing from Pepper or Happy, either. He wants to jump into action right then, but he knows he’s in no shape to do this alone. And his equipment is under lock and key at the compound.

After a few hours, he receives a phone call. Not from Tony, not from Happy. Not even from Pepper.

On the other line, he hears Sam’s voice, not for the first time since he’s been gone. It’s an unmarked call. They’ve communicated here and there whenever Sam gets a chance to call from a phonebooth, but Jim knows this isn’t a quick chat or check-up. Jim is watching Tony’s face plastered beside a photo of the ship, and Jim doesn’t even have time to feel his heart flutter in his chest or pull his usual flirty lines on Sam.

“Jim?” Sam’s voice comes from the other end. “It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. Are you seeing this? Are you guys okay?”

Sam doesn’t answer any of Jim’s questions. Instead, he tells him the news. “We’re coming home.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked that, feel free to find me on twitter @onhisleft :) It's always RhodeySam hours over there.


End file.
